Review of Reckless Rites

While it is a bit out of season, I wanted to review Elliott Horowitz’s new book Reckless Rites. In this book, subtitled “Purim and the Legacy of Jewish Violence,” everything is viewed through the prism of the violence inflicted by the Jews upon their enemies at the end of Esther.

While arguably, the violence at the end is only a minor part of the story for some that aspect has clouded everything about the Book of Esther and Purim. First Horowitz looks at how the Book was viewed by non-Jews. Some had a very negative view due to the Jewish revenge. They considered that motif, un-biblical (read non-Christian). Horowitz goes through each of the characters and how first non-Jews interpreted their actions. For instance, Mordechi was treated rather harshly by many of these commentators as was Esther due to her passivity. What is especially fascinating is how these non-Jewish understandings, at times, crept into Jewish thought as well. Thus, Horowitz documents Jews parroting these rather un-Jewish, at it were, interpretations.

Horowitz then tackles the overarching theme of Amalek and how this has been understood throughout history. Some hold there is no obligation of destroying Amalek today while others are willing to label any perceived enemy of Jews as deserving of the harsh consequences of Amalek. Some of these examples are rather disturbing.

After dealing with the Book of Esther specifically, Horowitz turns his focus to Jewish practice on Purim. Specifically, he deals with Jewish violence or violent acts on Purim directed at non-Jews. He provides a discussion of the stereotype of the “mild” (read the wimp) Jew including its origins and whether it is borne out by history. He then discusses numerous, diverse examples spanning from the 5th century until today of Jewish violence. Some is not physical violence, instead it is host desecration or general enmity of non-Jewish symbols while other, most recently Barukh Goldstein is physical violence in its worst form.

In an effort to play down some of these incidents, we have Jewish historians who decided to avoid discussion of such matters, or at times downplay their significance. However, in light of the many examples here, it is very difficult to ignore such examples. Horowitz is very convincing in the scope of this idea and how prevalent this is. It is especially telling when tracing and seeing how systematically Jews have decided to sweep under the rug these examples, it demonstrates that censorship is not limited to any one group and even amongst supposedly dispassionate scholars, they too can fall prey to their own biases.

The detail and research is amazing , Horowitz leaves no stone unturned. All in all, this book sheds new light of the story of Purim, the Book of Esther and Jewish history. It provides a new way of viewing the story of Esther and Jewish ideas towards violence.




Manasseh of Ilya and Y. Barzilay

I recently finished reading Yitzhak Barzilay’s book on R. Manasseh of Ilya. R. Manasseh was a fascinating character. He was a student of the Vilna Goan, but wrote a pamphlet arguing for reconciliation between Hassidim and non-Hassidim. He wrote another work discussing the trop or cantilation marks and yet another, his mangum opus, on the Talmud. It is the later work that he is most well known for, although not necessarily in a positive way. The Tefferet Yisrael (R. Yisrael Lifshitz) on the Mishna quotes a brief passage from this commentary. R. Menasseh’s comments appear on the first Mishna in Perek Alu Mitzhut. (Baba Metziah 1:1). He understands the Mishna in a different fashion than the Talmud, thus provoking some to argue such a position is heritical.

R. Manasseh was a controversial figure. His book on the reconciliation, Pesher Davar, was publicly burnt. His work on Talmud, Alphei Menashe, after either the publisher or some outsider (depending on the source, there are a couple versions of the story), destroyed it right before it was completed. R. Manasseh was forced to reproduce the entire work from memory and find a different printer.

Additionally, although he had a close relationship with the Vilna Goan, the Vilna Goan severed that relationship after learning R. Manasseh had been in contact with R. Shneur Zalman of Lida (Ba’al haTanya).

All this being said, he is ripe for an excellent biography. Unfortunately, Barzilay does not deviate from his norm, and put out another poor work. Although Barzilay has written on many other interesting figures of Jewish history, almost always he fails to do anything substantive or worthwhile with the subjects.

This work is full of gross supposition that are never supported by any facts. For instance we have sentences like this “It may be assumed that in a talented person like Manasseh, his critical faculties must have awakened rather early, and already in his youth he may have arrived at some of his nonconformist views with regard to the Halakhah and its historical development.” (p. 24). Therefore, Barzilay wants to then claim and project back on Manasseh’s early years and label him as a radical even then based only upon “his critical faculties.” While that may be the case, there are also a million other possibilities. For instance, Manasseh was influenced later in life by someone else or he came to his “nonconformist views” based upon years of study and when he was 17 (according to Barzilay, again a guess) he did not hold these views.

Another example, where Barzilay is discussing Manasseh’s frequent trips to his wealthy relatives house who had a terrific library, Barzilay makes the following statement: “The role of this library in Manasseh’s life and intellectual growth cannot be overestimated . . . It may be further assumed, with a high degree of probability, that there also were to be found there the recent works of the Berlin maskilim, as well as those of the enlightened orthodox Jews from both Eastern Europe and the Germanies.” Barzilay then goes on to cite to the many subscribers of various haskalah literature as “proof” this library contained these books. There a basic problem with this argument. Since Barzilay is able to point to where these books went to as the subscriber list, lists both person and place, why then isn’t this rich relatives name ever listed if he was a collector of such works? Instead, Barzilay is satisfied to assume that the books were there as there were many haskalah books that “found [their] way among the Jews of Eastern Europe.”

These are but two examples from a book that is rife with such sloppy work. The only redeeming fact of the book is the extensive quotation from R. Manasseh’s works. As mentioned above, this is not the first book Barzilay wrote that fails miserably. He also did another biography on R. Shlomo Yehudah Rapoport (Shir), the son-in-law of the Ketzot HaChoshen and one of the leading figures of 19th century Eastern European Haskalah. This book is also disappointing.

unfortunate, the only other biography, Ben Porat Yosef, is no gem either. It was written by Mordechai Plungian an editor at the famed Romm press. This is more of an anecdotal than scholarly work. However, this work got Plungian in trouble as some claimed he attempted to make R. Manasseh into a maskil.

What is particularly strange is that a book review of Plungin’s book appeared in HaMagid. At the JNUL site, which contains old Hebrew newspapers, the version they have appears to have that portion blacked out. The review in question appeared in HaMagid on March 8, 1858.

The full citation for Barzilay’s book is Manasseh of Ilya: Precurser of Modernity Among the Jews of Eastern Europe (Manges Press, 1999).




When Rabbi Meir Kahane’s Father Translated the Torah

When Rabbi Meir Kahane’s Father Translated the Torah

By Yosef Lindell

Yosef Lindell is a lawyer, writer, and lecturer living in Silver Spring, MD. He has a JD from NYU Law and an MA in Jewish history from Yeshiva University. He is one of the editors of the Lehrhaus and has published more than 30 articles on Jewish history and thought in a variety of venues. His website is yoseflindell.wordpress.com.

In 1962, the Jewish Publication Society published a new translation of the Torah. The product of nearly a decade of work, the new edition was the first major English translation to cast off the shackles of the 1611 King James Bible. Dr. Harry Orlinsky, the primary force behind the new translation and a professor of Bible at the merged Reform Hebrew Union College and Jewish Institute of Religion, explained that even JPS’ celebrated 1917 translation was merely a King James lookalike, a modest revision of the Revised Standard Version that “did not exceed more than a very few percent of the whole.”[1] This new edition was different. As the editors wrote in the preface, the King James not only “had an archaic flavor,” but it rendered the Hebrew “word for word rather than idiomatically,” resulting in “quaintness or awkwardness and not infrequently in obscurity.”[2] Now, for the first time, the editors translated wholly anew, jettisoning literalism for maximum intelligibility. More than sixty years later, JPS’ work remains one of the definitive English translations of the Torah.

The new JPS may have left the King James behind, but it didn’t satisfy everyone. In addition to making the Torah more intelligible, the editors incorporated the insights of modern biblical scholarship, both from “biblical archeology and in the recovery of the languages and civilizations of the peoples among whom the Israelites lived and whose modes of living and thinking they largely shared.”[3] So when asked by Rabbi Theodore Adams, the president of the Rabbinical Council of America, whether the RCA could accept an invitation from Dr. Solomon Grayzel, JPS’ publisher, to participate in the new translation, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik demurred. He wrote in a 1953 letter to Adams, “I am afraid that the purpose of this undertaking is not to infuse the spirit of Torah she-be-al peh into the new English version but, on the contrary, … to satisfy the so-called modern ‘scientific’ demands for a more exact rendition in accordance with the latest archeological and philological discoveries.”[4]

Just one year after JPS released its volume, in 1963, R. Soloveitchik’s wish for a more “Torah-true” translation was answered, but likely not in the way he expected. The two-volume Torah Yesharah published by Rabbi Charles Kahane (1905-1978) relies heavily on traditional Jewish commentary in its translation.[5] But as we’ll explore, because of its lack of fidelity to the Hebrew text, it can hardly be called a translation at all.

Here is the title page (courtesy of the Internet Archive):

The strategically placed dots on the title page indicate that Yesharah is an acronym for the author’s Hebrew name—Yechezkel Shraga Hakohen. R. Charles Kahane was born in Safed and received semichah from the Pressburg Yeshiva in Hungary. After immigrating to the United States in 1925 and receiving a second semichah from Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, he served as rabbi of Congregation Shaarei Tefiloh in Brooklyn for most of his professional career, a shul which drew over 2,000 worshippers for the High Holidays.[6] He was a founding member of the Vaad Harabbanim of Flatbush and helped Rabbi Avraham Kalmanowitz re-establish the Mir Yeshiva in Brooklyn. Today, however, he is known as the father of Meir Kahane, the radical and controversial Jewish power activist and politician who needs no further introduction. The father does not seem to have been directly involved in his son’s activities, but he took pride in Meir’s accomplishments and was a staunch supporter of the Irgun in Palestine, Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s Revisionist Zionist movement, and Jabotinsky’s youth group, Betar.[7]

R. Kahane told the New York Times that Torah Yesharah was inspired by Bible classes he gave to his adult congregants where many people did not understand the text even in translation.[8] (Recall that the new JPS translation was not yet available, and other English translations relied on the archaic King James.) He wanted to rectify this problem; indeed, the title page states that the work is a “traditional interpretive translation,” suggesting that it was intended to be more user-friendly. But calling it user-friendly does not do justice to what Kahane did. Here is most of Bereishit 22—the passage of Akedat Yitzchak:

Most translators try to approximate the meaning of the Hebrew. Not so R. Kahane. Nearly every single English verse here contains significant additions not found in the original. The first verse, for example, which states that the Akedah was meant to punish Avraham for making a treaty with Avimelech, follows the opinion of the medieval commentator Rashbam, who, notes that the words “and it was after these things” connect the Akedah to the previous episode—the treaty with Avimelech (Rashbam, Bereishit 22:1). But it’s hard to imagine that Rashbam, famous for his devotion to peshat—plain meaning—would have been comfortable with his explanation being substituted for the translation itself. Many other verses on this page provide additions from Rashi and other commentators. 

Pretty much every page of R. Kahane’s translation looks similar: Hebrew on one side and an expansive interpretive translation drawn from the classical commentators on the other. Kahane makes no effort to distinguish between the literal meaning of the Hebrew and his interpretive gloss.[9] Dr. Philip Birnbaum, the famed siddur and machzor translator, criticizes this aspect of the work in his (Hebrew) review, noting that Kahane’s interpretations are written “as if they are an inseparable part of the Hebrew source, and the simple reader who doesn’t know the Holy Tongue will end up mistakenly thinking that everything written in ‘Torah Yesharah’ is written in ‘Torat Moshe.’”[10]

To be fair, R. Kahane cites sources for his interpretations, but only at the back of each book of the Torah and only in Hebrew shorthand:

Thus, a reader not already fluent in Hebrew and the traditional commentaries would have little idea where Kahane was drawing his “translation” from and might not grasp how much the translation departed from the Hebrew original.[11]

Yet perhaps this was the point. R. Kahane considered literal translation to be illegitimate. In the preface to Torah Yesharah, Kahane contrasts Targum Onkelos, which is celebrated by the Sages, with the Septuagint translation of the Torah into Greek, which the Sages mourned. Kahane suggests that a Targum, which is an interpretation or commentary, is superior to a direct translation. Targum Onkelos, he writes, was composed under the guidance of the Sages and based on the Oral Law, and therefore it was “sanctified.” According to Kahane, “The Torah cannot and must never be translated literally, without following the Oral interpretation as given to Moses on Sinai. … It is in this spirit that the present translation-interpretation has been written.”[12]

Kahane was not the only Orthodox rabbi of his time to criticize translation unfaithful to rabbinic interpretation. We’ve already noted R. Soloveitchik’s concerns about the new JPS.[13] Similarly, the encyclopedist Rabbi Judah David Eisenstein reported that in 1913, when JPS was preparing its initial translation, Rabbi Chaim Hirschenson of Hoboken, NJ, convinced the Agudath Harabbanim to protest JPS’ efforts so the new work should not become the “official” translation of English-speaking Jewry the way the King James had become the official translation of the Church of England. The Agudath Harabbanim noted the Sages’ disapproval of the Septuagint and explained that only Targum Onkelos and traditional commentators that based themselves on the Talmud were officially sanctioned.[14]

R. Kahane’s approach also harks back to a series of articles in Jewish Forum composed in 1928 by Rabbi Samuel Gerstenfeld, a rosh yeshiva at RIETS (a young Rabbi Gerstenfeld is pictured below), attacking the original 1917 JPS translation. Gerstenfeld labeled the JPS translation Conservative and sought to demonstrate its departure from Orthodoxy by comprehensively cataloging all the places where the translation departed from the halakhic understanding of the verse. So, for example, he criticizes JPS for translating the tachash skins used in the construction of the Mishkan as “seal skins,” because according to halachic authorities, non-kosher animal hides cannot be used for a sacred purpose.[15] He believed that the word tachash should be transliterated, but not translated.[16] Gerstenfeld concludes that the JPS translators “missed a Moses—a Rabbi well versed in Talmud and Posekim, who would have been vigilant against violence to the Oral Law.”[17]

Still, R. Kahane’s interpretive translation with additions goes far beyond what R. Gerstenfeld was suggesting. To give one example: Gerstenfeld quibbles with JPS’ translation of the words ve-yarka befanav in the chalitzah ceremony (Devarim 25:9). The 1917 JPS translates that the woman should “spit in his face” (referring to the man who refuses to perform yibbum). Gerstenfeld notes that rabbinic tradition unanimously holds that the woman spits on the ground. He suggests that “and spit in his presence” would be a better translation.[18] Gerstenfeld’s suggestion is reasonably elegant—it gives space for the rabbinic reading without negating the meaning of the Hebrew. Kahane makes no such attempt to be literal, instead translating that she will “spit on the ground in front of his face.”[19] As we’ve seen, Kahane had no compunctions about adding words.

Thus, there is no English-language precedent for Torah Yesharah of which I am aware. As the preface suggests, R. Kahane was inspired by the Aramaic targumim, but it would seem more by Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel than Targum Onkelos. Onkelos translates word-for-word in most circumstances, typically departing from the Hebrew’s literal meaning to address theological concerns, such as a discomfort with anthropomorphism. Targum Yonatan, on the other hand, seamlessly weaves many midrashic additions into its translation and looks more like Torah Yesharah. For example, at the beginning of the Akedah passage, Targum Yonatan goes on a lengthy excursus suggesting that God’s command to sacrifice Yitzchak was in response to a debate between Yitzchak and Yishmael where Yitzchak boasted that he would be willing to offer himself to God. This digression is akin to Kahane’s addition of the Rashbam into his translation. If anything, Targum Yonatan is more expansive than Torah Yesharah.

Torah Yesharah received a fair amount of press upon its publication. It was even reviewed by the New York Times, which called it “[a] new and unusual translation” that was intended to make the Torah “more meaningful to Americans.” The article quoted Rabbi Dr. Immanuel Jakobovits, then the rabbi of the Fifth Avenue Synagogue in Manhattan (before he became Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom), as calling it “an original enterprise” and “a most specifically Jewish rendering of the Torah.” While the Times was noncommittal about the work, a critical review in the Detroit Jewish News found Kahane’s language confusing and inferior to the new JPS translation published the prior year.[20] As for Dr. Birnbaum, he praised Torah Yesharah’s reliance on traditional Jewish interpretations and lamented the fact that most other biblical translations “were borrowed from the Christians from the time of Shakespeare,” but criticized the format (as noted above) and some of Kahane’s more tendentious translations.[21]

Despite the interest Torah Yesharah generated, its unique approach was not replicated. One might see echoes of R. Kahane in a better known translation—ArtScroll’s 1993 Stone Edition Chumash. As its editors explained in its preface, the “volume attempts to render the text as our Sages understood it.”[22] To this end, ArtScroll famously follows Rashi when translating “because the study of Chumash has been synonymous with Chumash-Rashi for nine centuries,”[23] even when Rashi is at variance with more straightforward readings of the text. Thus, for example, ArtScroll translates az huchal likro be-shem hashem (Genesis 4:26) based on Rashi as, “Then to call in the name of Hashem became profaned”—a reference to the beginnings of idol worship.[24] However, a more literal translation would run, “Then people began to call in the name of God,” which sounds like a reference to sincere prayer—the opposite of idolatry. It’s also well-known that ArtScroll declines to translate Shir Ha-Shirim literally, adapting Rashi’s allegorical commentary in place of translation.

On the other hand, ArtScroll’s overall approach is different than Torah Yesharah’s. ArtScroll is typically quite literal, translating word-for-word even when the syntax of the verse suffers as a result. An example from the Akedah is again relevant: va-yar ve-hinei ayil achar ne’echaz ba-sevach be-karnav (Genesis 22:13). ArtScroll’s translation, that Abraham “saw—behold, a ram!—afterwards, caught in the thicket,”[25] is awkward, but it preserves the word achar in the precise location that it appears in the Hebrew. When ArtScroll wants to highlight more traditional interpretations of the text in line with Chazal and others, it does so in the commentary, not in the translation itself.[26]

Two recent works—the Koren Steinsaltz Humash (2018) and the Chabad Kehot Chumash (2015)—are much closer to Torah Yesharah in that they insert commentary directly into the English translation. But they still differ in an important respect. Both the Steinsaltz—which is a translation of a Hebrew Humash based on the classes of Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz—and the Kehot “interpolate” a good deal of commentary into the translation (the former is more peshat based and the latter leans more on Rashi and Midrash). Nevertheless, they distinguish between what’s literal and what’s added by using bold font for the literal translation. This approach still has its downsides, as it can still be hard to read the English cleanly without the added gloss getting in the way of the literal meaning.[27] But it’s preferable to Torah Yesharah, where R. Kahane did not provide the reader any means of distinguishing between the text and his additions.

Today, Torah Yesharah is but a historical curiosity. Yet its existence highlights the fact that some mid-20th century Orthodox Jews felt a real need for a translation that followed in the footsteps of Chazal and other traditional commentators. To them, JPS’ translation did not embrace an authentic Torah approach. Before ArtScroll came on the scene, Torah Yesharah filled that niche for a time, but its unusual format blurred the line between the Word of God and the words of His interpreters.

Yosef Lindell is a lawyer, writer, and lecturer living in Silver Spring, MD. He has a JD from NYU Law and an MA in Jewish history from Yeshiva University. He is one of the editors of the Lehrhaus and has published more than 30 articles on Jewish history and thought in a variety of venues. His website is yoseflindell.wordpress.com.

[1] Harry M. Orlinsky, “The New Jewish Version of the Torah: Toward a New Philosophy of Bible Translation,” Journal of Biblical Literature 82:3 (1963): 251.
[2] The Torah: The Five Books of Moses (The Jewish Publication Society, 1962), Preface.
[3] Ibid.
[4]
Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Community, Covenant, and Commitment: Selected Letters and Communications (Nathaniel Helfgot, ed., KTAV, 2005), 110.
[5] Charles Kahane, ed., Torah Yesharah (Torah Yesharah Publication: Solomon Rabinowitz Book Concern, NY, 1963).
[6]
To the New York Times, Kahane described the shul as “progressive Orthodox,” and it likely lacked a mechitzah. See Robert I. Friedman, The False Prophet: Rabbi Meir Kahane (Lawrence Hill Books, 1990), 20. That, however, was not unusual for those times.
[7] The biographical information in this paragraph is drawn from Friedman (see previous note) and Libby Kahane, Rabbi Meir Kahane: His Life and Thought (Institute for the Publication of the Writings of Rabbi Meir Kahane, 2008).
[8] Richard F. Shepard, “Rabbi Publishes New Bible Study; Works on Early Scholars Are Reinterpreted,” New York Times (June 21, 1964), 88.
[9] Here is another example of a large interpretive insertion concerning God’s decision that Moshe and Aharon would not lead the people into Israel because of their sin regarding the rock (Bamidbar 20:12):

That’s quite a few more words than are found in the Hebrew!
[10] Paltiel Birnbaum, “Targum Angli be-Ruah ha-Masoret,” in Pleitat Sofrim: Iyyunim ve-Ha’arakhot be-Hakhmat Yisrael ve-Safrutah (Mossad Harav Kook, 1971), 75.
[11] Of note, Kahane’s translation is available on Sefaria, but with modifications that obscure its radicalness. For one, the format is different: the Hebrew and English are not juxtaposed in the same way. Second, the sources for each verse are cited directly below the translation in parentheses. This is not the way Kahane presented his sources in the original.
[12] Torah Yesharah, xviii-ix.
[13] Among the most intriguing critics of the new JPS was Avram Davidson, who wrote in Jewish Life in 1957 that because the translation was being prepared by non-Orthodox scholars who intended to depart occasionally from the Masoretic text in light of new archaeological discoveries, it was not “being prepared on the Torah’s terms” and was unacceptable. A.A. Davidson, “A ‘Modern’ Bible Translation,” Orthodox Jewish Life 24:5 (1957): 7-11. Davidson later became a science fiction writer of some renown but by the end of his life had become enamored with a modern Japanese religion called Tenrikyo.
[14] J.D. Eisenstein, ed., Otzar Yisrael vol. 10 (New York, 1913), 309. See also the criticism of the 1962 JPS translation and the discussion of Eisenstein and R. Gerstenfeld’s article in Sidney B. Hoenig, “Notes on the New Translation of the Torah – A Preliminary Inquiry,” Tradition 5:2 (1963): 172-205.
[15] Samuel Gerstenfeld, “The Conservative Halacha,” The Jewish Forum 11:10 (Oct. 1928): 533.
[16] Indeed, ArtScroll’s Stone Chumash leaves tachash untranslated. Interestingly, R. Kahane just translates “sealskins” like JPS.
[17] Samuel Gerstenfeld, “The Conservative Halacha,” The Jewish Forum 11:11 (Nov. 1928): 576.
[18] Ibid., 575-76.
[19] Torah Yesharah, 331.
[20] Philip Slomovitz, “Purely Commentary,” Detroit Jewish News (Aug. 21, 1964), 2.
[21] Birnbaum, 76. It’s interesting that Birnbaum was far more critical of non-literal translations of the siddur. When the RCA incorporated the poetic translations of the British novelist Israel Zangwill into its 1960 siddur edited by Rabbi Dr. David de Sola Pool, Birnbaum wrote a scathing review in Hadoar, accusing Zangwill’s efforts as being “free imitations,” not translations, and of having Christian influence. Paltiel Birnbaum, “Siddur Chadash Ba le-Medinah,” Hadoar 40:6 (Dec. 9, 1960): 85. Birnbaum may have been jealous of the RCA’s siddur, which was a direct competitor to his 1949 edition. Also, he was unimpressed with Zangwill in particular, who had married a non-Jew and was not halakhically observant. For more about this, see my article in Lehrhaus here.
[22] Nosson Scherman, ed., The Stone Edition Chumash (Mesorah Publications, 1993), xvi.
[23] Ibid.
[24] Ibid., 23.
[25] Ibid., 103.
[26] Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s 1981 Living Torah translation also bears some resemblance to Torah Yesharah in its tendency to follow Chazal, but it too, despite its exceedingly colloquial approach to translation, does not insert large interpretive glosses into the text.
[27] R. Steinsaltz calls the commentary “transparent” and “one whose explanations should go almost unnoticed and serve only to give the reader and student the sense that there is no barrier between him or her and the text,” but I am not sure I agree. See The Steinsaltz Humash (Koren Publishers, 2015), ix. 




“Improved” Making of a Godol

R. Nathan Kamenetsky has republished the first volume of his book, “Making of a Godol.” This new edition is labeled “Improved Edition.” The reasons for the improvements are well-known. The original edition was placed under a ban due to perceived slights in the honor of certain Gedolim.

In this new edition, there is a helpful index which shows what exactly has been improved upon. According to the index only one story has been removed in it’s entirety. That story, in which R. A. Kotler responded to an interruption during his shiur from a “red-bearded scholar.” R. Kotler responded by saying “Red Heifer, be still!” This was removed due to the source of the story. Apparently, the source for this particular story did not support R. Kamenetsky when R. Kamenetsky questioned the validity of the ban, and thus R. Kamenetsky did not want to include this persons comments.

According to the index there are no more omissions in this new edition. Instead, there are numerous elaborations, corrections, and a significant amount of new information. R. Kamenetsky states in one of the first “elaborations” that “the unexpected ban issued on the original, unimproved, version” helped the current edition be of value for all time.

unfortunately, this improved edition still suffers from a serious lack of editorial oversight. Although, the book has been altered to conform and appease those that issued a ban, it was not altered to make it more reader friendly. The improved edition still utilizes the same format of text followed by excursuses with numerous footnotes and tangents. It still requires, as R. Kamenetsky points out, a pencil and paper to be able to be able to flip back and forth through the book and keep track of what page one is on.

There is one important addition to the book, while not solving all the difficulties, at least alleviates some of them. R. Kamenetsky included a timeline line which tracks both significant events in world history with a parallel timeline that tracks significant Jewish events. When the Jewish events appear in the book, R. Kamenetsky included a footnote to alert the reader which page they can be found on. This allows, if one so desires, to read the book in a chronological order.

Although, the original book was only $40 (when it was published, subsequent to the ban the book was selling and continues to sell for outrageous prices) this improved version is $125. I assume that the steep raise in price was to allow for R. Kamenetsky to recoup some of his losses he suffered from the first edition. There were only 1,000 copies of the first edition published, however, R. Kamenetsky stopped selling and ordered his distributor to stop distributing them once the ban was pronounced. While it is impossible to know with certainty, this probably left him with numerous unsold copies thus causing significant loss. R. Kamenetsky implemented this policy even though he stood to profit immensely from the ban, he has said he felt bound by the ban even if he felt it was unjust.




What Did the Willows Ever Do to Deserve Such a Beating? An Original Explanation for a Perplexing Custom

What Did the
Willows Ever Do to Deserve Such a Beating?
An Original
Explanation for a Perplexing Custom

By Steven Weiner 

Steven had the privilege and good fortune of
learning from Rav Aharon Lichtenstein ztz”l and Rav Yaakov Meidan
Shlit”a at Yeshivat Har Etzion (1982-83) and prior to that from Rav
Yisroel Mendel Kaplan ztz”l and other Rabbeim at the Talmudical Yeshiva of
Philadelphia.  He is currently working on a series of essays on the theme
of Shivat Tzion and its contemporary resonance.

Introduction
The
seventh day of Sukkot – the day we now call הושענא רבה – has no special significance in the Torah.  The day has no distinctive name; no mitzvot
or rules distinguish it from the rest of Sukkot; its sacrifices follow
precisely the same pattern as the previous six days; and, unlike the seventh day
of Pesach, the seventh day of Sukkot is not even a מקרא קדשIn other words, the seventh day of Sukkot
appears in the Torah as indistinguishable from the other days of המועד חול.
Nevertheless,
the Talmud describes several unique practices that were performed on הושענא רבה.  One such practice is the custom we still
observe today known as חיבוט ערבות (chibut aravot),
beating our ערבות against the ground. 
What is the meaning of this strange ritual, and does it have any meaningful
relationship with הושענא רבה?
In
this article, we suggest an original answer grounded in a deep connection
between the curious practice of beating ערבות and the teachings
of the final נביאים who were active during the early days of
the Second Temple, also known as the period of שיבת ציון.
A
most mysterious
מנהג
נביאים
According
to the Mishna (Sukka 4:5), on each day
of Sukkot the people brought tall ערבות branches to the מקדש and stood them on the
ground surrounding the מזבח,
thereby adorning the מזבח with an overhanging
canopy of leaves.  The Gemara (Sukka
44a-44b) concludes that this practice is rooted in a הלכה למשה מסיני
(an
oral tradition received at Sinai).  However,
while the Mishna describes only a ritual performed inside the מקדש, the Gemara adds that a custom involving ערבות also
developed later outside of the מקדש – but only on one day of Sukkot, הושענא רבה.[1]  The Gemara describes this custom using the
verb חיבוט –
understood by Rashi as waving the ערבות,
and by Rambam as beating them e.g. against the floor.  The familiar custom nowadays is to take a
bundle of ערבות on הושענא רבה and strike it
sharply, several times, against the floor or a chair.
What is the
source and meaning of חיבוט ערבות outside the מקדש?  The Gemara (Sukka 44b) calls this practice a מנהג נביאים (“custom of the
prophets”).  Rashi and other traditional
commentators understand this as meaning that the custom was instituted by the trio
of prophetsחגי
זכרי’ ומלאכי , who prophesied during the early Second Temple period and were
members of אנשי כנסת הגדולה.  However, barely one page earlier (44a), the Gemara indicates חיבוט ערבות is a זכר למקדש!  Indeed, Rambam and numerous other subsequent authorities
who discuss the practice of חיבוט
ערבות echo the Gemara on both counts, dubbing
the practice a זכר למקדש
as
well as a מנהג נביאים.  But performing a זכר למקדש
is
an act of דרישת
ציון, a response to Yirmiyahu’s cry that poor
Zion lies destroyed and abandoned with none seeking her.[2]  How could a זכר למקדש in
the spirit of דרישת ציון possibly make sense in the earliest days
of the Second Temple, centuries before its destruction[3]? 
Furthermore, why
does the Gemara ascribe this custom specifically to the prophets?  The intriguing term מנהג נביאים is not used elsewhere
in the Talmud.  While many familiar practices
are known as enactments of אנשי
כנסת הגדולה (the Rabbinic authority during שיבת ציון, whose
members included חגי זכריה ומלאכי as well as other leading scholars of that period), they are not
labeled as מנהג נביאים.  What significance is to be found in the
Talmud’s attribution of חיבוט ערבות specifically to the prophets of the early Second
Temple?
In addition, the
peculiar way we perform this custom – beating ערבות against the ground[4] –
also cries out for explanation.  What does
beating branches symbolize?  Moreover, if
the custom is intended to remind us of the ערבות ceremony inside the מקדש, shouldn’t we instead encircle and adorn
the שלחן with
our ערבות, just as the מזבח was
encircled and adorned with ערבות in the מקדש?  After all, we commemorate the practice of הקפות in
the מקדש (Mishna Sukka 4:5) by marching around the שלחן in very similar
fashion.  Why then do we commemorate a
ceremony of adorning the מזבח by beating our ערבות against the ground?
A well-known Kabbalistic explanation
views חיבוט ערבות as a rite of atonement, and interprets הושענא רבה as
a day of final judgment and forgiveness. 
Beating the branches symbolizes, and mystically brings about, a
sweetening of the Divine attribute of justice.[5] While a mystical interpretation is certainly possible,
the Talmud never mentions judgment or atonement regarding חיבוט ערבות or הושענא רבה.  For
those of us who might prefer a less esoteric alternative, I wish to propose an
explanation for חיבוט ערבות that is
grounded in Biblical sources, and which also helps to resolve the puzzle of exactly
how and why a זכר למקדש
was
initiated as a מנהג נביאים in the early
days of שיבת
ציון.  I am not sure that
difficulty is tackled by the Kabbalistic approach.
Others have suggested that חיבוט ערבות represents
a prayer for rain, the sound of beating ערבות evoking the sounds
and sights of a rainstorm.[6]  This seems plausible, as the Talmud and
Midrash indicate that arba minim and
other practices of Sukkot are in part connected to our prayers for rain, which
begin at this time of year.  However, once
again this explanation fails to shed light on why the custom was initiated specifically
by the prophets of שיבת ציון, or how we can possibly reconcile the seemingly
self-contradictory, dual status of מנהג
נביאים and זכר למקדש.
Affirming a powerful prophecy by acting
it out
I believe the
key to unlocking the significance of חיבוט ערבות may be found by
examining the visions proclaimed by the prophets of שיבת ציון.
The Second
Temple was built in a climate of intensely mixed emotions.  The austere structure of שיבת ציון paled against the splendid, opulent בית ראשון
constructed
by Solomon.  Celebrating their first
Sukkot shortly after rebuilding the מזבח,
the people of Ezra’s time offered the obligatory holiday offerings בְּמִסְפָּר
כְּמִשְׁפַּט דְּבַר־יוֹם בְּיוֹמוֹ – “by number, according to the obligation of each day.”  In contrast, Solomon offered such bountiful
sacrifices for the inauguration of בית ראשון that the capacity of the מזבח was
overwhelmed and more space had to be specially consecrated![7]  Moreover,
בית ראשון
was
graced with a visible appearance of God’s presence, ‘ה כְּבוֹד, with clouds filling the Temple upon its
dedication, just as occurred in the original משכן.[8]  No comparable revelation is reported for בית שני.  Accordingly, elders who remembered the
magnificent First Temple wept loudly over the Second Temple’s modest foundations,
and the inaugural ceremony was accompanied by a heart-rending mixture of tears
and rejoicing (Ezra 3:12-13).  To make matters even worse, Persia soon
suspended further rebuilding of the Temple
in response to slander against the Jews by their envious, non-Jewish
neighbors (see Ezra 4).
Against this painful
backdrop, the prophet חגי received a stirring vision on the 21st day of Tishrei – i.e.
on
הושענא רבה,
the same date when Solomon had concluded his spectacular חֲנֻכַּת הַמִּזְבֵּחַ for the
First Temple centuries earlier:
חגי פרק ב
(א)
בַּשְּׁבִיעִי בְּעֶשְׂרִים וְאֶחָד לַחֹדֶשׁ הָיָה דְּבַר־יְקֹוָק
בְּיַד־חַגַּי הַנָּבִיא לֵאמֹר:
In a powerful message
of hope and encouragement, God first acknowledged that the Jewish people were demoralized
by the humble stature of בית שני
(“it is nothing in your eyes”) in comparison to the glorious Temple and kingdom
of Solomon:
(ג)
מִי בָכֶם הַנִּשְׁאָר אֲשֶׁר רָאָה אֶת־הַבַּיִת הַזֶּה בִּכְבוֹדוֹ הָרִאשׁוֹן,
וּמָה אַתֶּם רֹאִים אֹתוֹ עַתָּה? הֲלוֹא כָמֹהוּ כְּאַיִן בְּעֵינֵיכֶם:
Nevertheless, God
urged the people and their leaders to strengthen themselves and take action (continue
rebuilding), mindful that He is with them.  God declared that in but a moment He could
shake (מַרְעִישׁ)
the heavens and the earth, overturn (וְהִרְעַשְׁתִּי) powerful empires and deliver their wealth
to Israel, and “fill this house with כָּבוֹד.”[9]  The כָּבוֹד of
the new Temple could then exceed even the כָּבוֹד of
the First Temple, in both material wealth and Divine presence:
(ד) וְעַתָּה חֲזַק זְרֻבָּבֶל נְאֻם־יְקֹוָק, וַחֲזַק יְהוֹשֻׁעַ
בֶּן־יְהוֹצָדָק הַכֹּהֵן הַגָּדוֹל, וַחֲזַק כָּל־עַם הָאָרֶץ נְאֻם־יְקֹוָק,
וַעֲשׂוּ – כִּי־אֲנִי אִתְּכֶם, נְאֻם יְקֹוָק צְבָקוֹת:
(ה) אֶת־הַדָּבָר אֲשֶׁר־כָּרַתִּי אִתְּכֶם בְּצֵאתְכֶם
מִמִּצְרַיִם וְרוּחִי עֹמֶדֶת בְּתוֹכְכֶם אַל־תִּירָאוּ:
(ו) כִּי
כֹה אָמַר יְקֹוָק צְבָקוֹת:
עוֹד אַחַת מְעַט הִיא, וַאֲנִי מַרְעִישׁ
אֶת־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶת־הָאָרֶץ וְאֶת־הַיָּם וְאֶת־הֶחָרָבָה
:
(ז) וְהִרְעַשְׁתִּי אֶת־כָּל־הַגּוֹיִם וּבָאוּ חֶמְדַּת
כָּל־הַגּוֹיִם וּמִלֵּאתִי אֶת־הַבַּיִת הַזֶּה כָּבוֹד אָמַר יְקֹוָק
צְבָקוֹת:
(ט) גָּדוֹל
יִהְיֶה כְּבוֹד הַבַּיִת הַזֶּה הָאַחֲרוֹן מִן־הָרִאשׁוֹן
אָמַר יְקֹוָק
צְבָקוֹת וּבַמָּקוֹם
הַזֶּה אֶתֵּן שָׁלוֹם נְאֻם יְקֹוָק צְבָקוֹת:
I suggest our מנהג נביאים of
beating ערבות has its roots in this prophecy.  When חגי received these powerful words, cutting
to the heart of the difficult challenges that he and his generation faced, he responded
by
acting out his own prophecy
וְהִרְעַשְׁתִּי /אֲנִי מַרְעִישׁ, “God
will shake the heavens and the earth” – by striking the earth sharply with a
bundle of
ערבות.[10]
 Using ערבות poignantly evoked the
similar branches that were used on that same day by the people within the מקדש to
encircle and celebrate their modest, fragile מזבח.
Prophets
in the Bible often acted out the imagery of their prophecies, as a way of affirming
and reinforcing their visions.  Ramban notes
this phenomenon in his commentary to the Torah (Breisheet 12:6).  One famous example
is even highly reminiscent of חיבוט
ערבות: Elisha instructed the King of Israel to bang arrows on the ground,
in order to affirm Elisha’s prophecy that Israel would smite and defeat its enemy
(Melachim II 13:16-17).  It is easy to picture חגי
following
in Elisha’s path and striking the ground with ערבות in place of
arrows, as an affirmation of his own prophecy ofוְהִרְעַשְׁתִּי /מַרְעִישׁ and
as a prayer to God that it be completely and speedily fulfilled.[11]
Thus,
חיבוט ערבות was from its very
inception both מנהג נביאים
and זכר למקדש – a זכר למקדש ראשון!!  Our puzzle is solved!  חגי and his colleagues performed חיבוט ערבות in the purest spirit of דרישת ציון.  Their ritual expressed a heartfelt plea for
the redemptive upheaval (רעש) that they envisioned, so that the full glory of בית ראשון could be
restored and exceeded.  At the same time,
the custom also served as a reminder of God’s command to חגי that we
strengthen ourselves and act courageously in fulfillment of God’s mandate to
continue rebuilding.
Although
בית שני was eventually completed, the longed-for glory of Solomon’s
era remained elusive. Judea was a vassal state for most of the Second Temple
period.  God’s presence (שכינה) was not manifest in בית שני, at least in
comparison with בית ראשון.[12]
 Therefore, it makes sense that חגי
and
his colleagues, and eventually all Jews, would annually repeat the custom of חיבוט ערבות outside
the מקדש on
הושענא רבה, affirming the
yearned-for prophecy on its anniversary.  To this day, in the prayer we recite just
before חיבוט ערבות – known as (“”קול מבשר) אומץ ישעך – we plead for complete and imminent
redemption by evoking “sounds” of deliverance including the earth-shaking upheaval
around Jerusalem foretold by זכרי’ , close colleague of חגי.  Like the original
prophecy of חגי, and much
like אני מאמין,
our custom of beating ערבות expresses both a prayer to God for redemption as well as
an uplifting pledge of faith and determination.
Our
novel interpretation also explains why the custom of חיבוט ערבות outside the מקדש is unique
to הושענא רבה.  The Gemara (Sukka 44a) explains why חיבוט
ערבות is performed on only one day of
Sukkot, as opposed to all seven days, but never explains the choice of which
day.[13]
 According to our explanation, the prophecy
of חגי
is
naturally reenacted and reaffirmed on its anniversary.  Intriguingly, Taz[14] suggests
חיבוט ערבות is
performed on הושענא רבה because of its unique holiness: יותר קדושה ביום זה.  Our proposal offers one way of interpreting
that special holiness.  הושענא רבה, the anniversary of בבית ראשון
חנכת המזבח
and
of נבואת חגי, is a day
of yearning for full redemption and the imminence of God’s presence – precisely
the theme expressed by חיבוט ערבות.
Counterpoint: who dares scorn the day of
small beginnings
?
While
beating ערבות outside of the מקדש expressed a deep longing for more
completion redemption, adorning the מזבח with a beautiful canopy of ערבות sounded a complementary
note inside the מקדש.  I believe this latter
practice acquired particular poignancy during the Second Temple period,
precisely because nagging feelings of disappointment over the limited “glory”
of that redemption were so palpable from the very start.  As cited above from Ezra 3, tears threatened
to drown out the shouts of joy heralding the inauguration of the Second
Temple.  Likewise, חגי
in
his הושענא רבה prophecy hears God say: “Who among you remembers the
glory of the First Temple, and what do you think of this house now?  It is nothing in your eyes!”
In
the prophecy of חגי, God’s primary response to these feelings of disappointment is
a promise that the future can be brighter if the people will only be strong and
act with courage and faith.  However, in 4:10
זכרי’, we hear
a somewhat different response: כִּי מִי בַז לְיוֹם קְטַנּוֹת?  – Who scorns
the day of small things?  I sense a sharp
tone of rebuke in the word “scorn”: Who dares to scorn the גאולה of שיבת ציון simply because it appears “small” and
modest compared to Solomon’s empire?  Shouldn’t
the people be grateful for even the smallest beginnings of גאולה?  Perhaps
חגי
2:3
contains a hint of the same rebuke: is the nascent בית שני really nothing
in your eyes?
I
suggest that for the Jews of the Second Temple[15],
adorning the מזבח with ערבות
became a deeply meaningful way of expressing gratitude and appreciation for the
redemption they enjoyed, imperfect as it was. 
The ceremony became a way of saying: we will never scorn you, oh מזבח, you are precious to
us!  In fact, the Mishna (Sukka 4:5) records that when the
ceremonies in the מקדש were completed on הושענא רבה, the people shouted: יופי לך מזבח, יופי לך מזבח
(“beauty is yours, מזבח”).  The reason for this charming salute to the
altar is not discussed in the Talmud, and several commentaries have commented
on it.[16]  Personally, I cannot help but hear an unmistakable
echo of the “cheers of ‘Beauty! Beauty!’” foretold in 4:7 זכרי’:
מִי־אַתָּה הַר־הַגָּדוֹל לִפְנֵי זְרֻבָּבֶל לְמִישֹׁר וְהוֹצִיא
אֶת־הָאֶבֶן הָרֹאשָׁה תְּשֻׁאוֹת חֵן חֵן לָהּ
:
Whatever great mountain
[obstacle] lies before Zerubavel –will be flattened!  He will present the cornerstone amid cheers of
“beauty, beauty!”
This vision of זכרי’
is adjacent
to his rebuke against those who scorn the day of small things.  The prophet’s message is that when the cornerstone
of the new Temple is placed, the proper response is joyous applause of “beauty,
beauty!”  Do not dare to be so ungrateful
as to scorn the modest beginnings of our new מקדש, thunders זכרי’!  I suggest that for the
people of בית שני,
the ערבות ceremony around the מזבח was an opportunity
to align themselves with those who gratefully cheered the cornerstone, and to
distance themselves from any thoughts of scorn.
Our
novel interpretation of the ערבות ceremony in the מקדש is further supported by the Gemara’s
citation (Sukka 45a) of Tehilim
118:27 – אִסְרוּ־חַג
בַּעֲבֹתִים עַד־קַרְנוֹת הַמִּזְבֵּחַ – as a source for encircling the מזבח with a canopy of ערבות. 
In
this section of Tehilim, familiar to us from Hallel, just a few verses earlier (118:22)
we read:
אֶבֶן מָאֲסוּ הַבּוֹנִים
הָיְתָה לְרֹאשׁ פִּנָּה
The
lowly stone once scorned by many is now the celebrated cornerstone!  This echoes the message and “stone” imagery
of זכרי’ that we
read above.  As Tehilim 118 continues, we
rejoice in this remarkable gift from God (23-24), we bless those who come
paying respects to the מקדש (26), and we gratefully salute the מזבח by encircling it
with leafy boughs (27).  The Gemara’s
citation of this excerpt from Tehilim as a source for adorning the מזבח makes perfect sense.
A Message for Our Own Era
We
have suggested a new interpretation for the mysterious custom of חיבוט ערבות, attributed by the
Gemara to the prophets of שיבת ציון.  We suggest the custom
arose from confrontation with the incomplete redemption of the Second Temple era.  The seemingly bizarre ritual of shaking
branches and striking the ground expressed profound longing for (and faith in) a
more perfect גאולה,
by vividly acting out the vision of חגי that one day God will bring a fully redemptive
“upheaval” when His presence returns to “shake” the earth and overthrow all
oppressors.  This same theme is
emphasized even today on הושענא
רבה in our prayers accompanying חיבוט ערבות.
At
the same time, we have also suggested that the related practice of adorning the
מזבח with
a beautiful canopy of boughs and shouting יופי לך מזבח expressed a complementary
sense of gratitude.  Even as the people
of בית שני pined
for complete redemption, they acknowledged the partial, beautiful redemption
which they had merited to receive, and did not dare scorn it.
How
fortunate are we in contemporary times, two thousand years after the Second
Temple’s destruction, that while still yearning for שלמה
גאולה, we can once again also express gratitude
for an imperfect but precious redemption already granted us.  Indeed today’s Jerusalem and Israel are
beautiful gifts – יופי לך
– as well as a work-in-progress.  As we
continue to beat our branches against the earth crying out for the קול מבשר heralding our ultimate redemption, and committing ourselves to the national
project of rebuilding (materially and spiritually), we dare not forget to appreciate
the remarkable gifts God has already bestowed upon us.
[1] It is evident
from the Gemara’s complicated discussion on Sukka 43b-44a, and is universally
accepted by all subsequent authorities, that חיבוט ערבות outside the מקדש is
performed only on הושענא רבה.
[2] Sukka 41a, ditto Rosh Hashana 30a, citing Yirmiyahu
30:17.
[3] One might attempt
to answer that חיבוט ערבות was originally a מנהג נביאים, but after המקדש חורבן it became instead, or in addition, a זכר למקדש.  See Tosafot Yom Tov
(Sukka 4:5), the only source I have seen so far who addresses this apparent
contradiction between מנהג
נביאים and
זכר למקדש.  But this answer seems
problematic.  Following Gemara Sukkah
44b, all of the major poskim rule that we recite no blessing on חיבוט ערבות precisely because it is a mere custom,
a מנהג נביאים.  But
if the practice was converted after the חורבן into a זכר למקדש, then why shouldn’t it warrant a blessing, just like holding arba minim after the first day of Sukkot
זכר למקדש?  Evidently then, even
the זכר למקדש
aspect
of חיבוט ערבות itself only has
the authority of a מנהג נביאים, which leaves our question unanswered.
[4] This question
is strongest according to Rambam and others who understand חיבוט as
banging against a surface, as is our common practice nowadays.  According to Rashi, who interprets חיבוט as
a synonym for waving or shaking, the ritual would not stand out as so unusual per se.
[5] Zohar parshat Tzav (end of 31b); see also
Ramban on Bamidbar 14:9.
[6] E.g. Rabbi Dr. Louis
Jacobs, in The Jewish Religion: A Companion, reprinted  here.
[7] Compare Ezra 3:4 versus Melachim I 8:63-64 and Divrei
HaYamim II 7:5, 7
.
[8] Melachim I 8:10-11, Divrei HaYamim II 7:1-3, Exodus
40:34-35
.
[9] Compare Melachim I 8:11 and Divrei HaYamim II 7:1-2 (כִּי־מָלֵא כְבוֹד־יְקֹוָק אֶת־בֵּית יְקֹוָק).
[10] The same verb רעש

upheaval, literally shaking the earth – also appears prominently in the visions
of final redemption recorded by זכרי’
(contemporary of חגי) and יחזקאל (slightly earlier, during the Babylonian exile), traditionally
read as haftarot during Sukkot.
[11] There is also
Midrashic precedent for the notion that shaking the branches of ארבע מינים symbolizes
the overthrow of our enemies and the redemption of Israel.  See ספר הרוקח,
in the attached source sheets.
[12] Yoma 21b. 
See also Yoma 9b
: because the Jews of that era did not return to
Israel en mass “like a wall”, and instead mustered only a relatively weak
return, God’s presence likewise returned only to a limited extent.
[13] Admittedly, the
choice of הושענא רבה might be
arbitrary: might as well pick the last day, if we must pick one.  Compare Sukka 43a, explaining why ערבה was
taken in the מקדש
on הושענא רבה even on Shabbat.  Essentially, the Gemara explains that הושענא רבה was selected by Chazal for this purpose not necessarily due to its inherent special
character, but perhaps simply because it happens to be “the last day.”  Beit Yosef and Bach (O.C. 664) both suggest explaining
the assignment of חיבוט ערבות to הושענא רבה in a similar manner.  However, it is more satisfying to find an underlying
connection between the day and its practices, if we can.
[14] Taz O.C. 664
note 2; cited by Mishna Berura in note 11. 
Taz also connects the special holiness of הושענא רבה to the performance of seven הקפות in
the מקדש; we hope and intend בעזרת
ה’ to
explore the meaning of הקפות in a separate, companion essay.
[15] The precise
origin of adorning the מזבח with a tall canopy
of ערבות is unclear.  I am not aware of any indication that it was an
essential part of the original הלכה למשה מסיני of
holding extra ערבות in the מקדש.  However, for our
purposes, it doesn’t really matter if the practice originated during the Second
Temple era, or if it was initiated earlier and simply took on additional
meaning later.
[16] See Aruch
Le-Ner (Sukka 45a); Tiferet Yisrael in הלכתא גבירתא
on Mishna Sukka chapter 4.



Notes on the Book of Samuel, and the Eternal Sanctity of the Temple in Maimonidean Thought

Notes on the Book of Samuel, and the Eternal Sanctity of the Temple in Maimonidean Thought

By Rabbi Avi Grossman

avrahambenyehuda.wordpress.com

Rabbi Label Dulitz, who passed away last week, was an iconic figure at YUHSB. I was privileged to first meet him when I began my studies at the school in the fall of 1996. That year, Rabbi Dulitz was teaching Talmud to part of the tenth grade, but some of us lucky freshmen got to sit in his afternoon Navi class. His photographic memory of the Bible, Talmud, and Shakespeare has already been recounted by many; what struck me more about the man who sought to mold men was his persistence, his insistence that all of his students put every ounce of their efforts into their studies. For years, I found myself more comfortable in the library than in the beis midrash, not because I was not interested in Torah study, but rather because of the atmosphere. In this, I found a model in Rabbi Dulitz, who made the third-floor gallery of our high-school library his personal study and let me spend as much time as I wanted at his table, even when I was cutting other classes. (I am also indebted to the long-time librarian, Mr. Wexler, for his support and dedication.) 

That year, Rabbi Dulitz did not teach us about the Book of Samuel; he drilled it into our minds as though using a thumbscrew (his word), and when we did not do well enough on our exams, he would wail like Achish, “do I lack crazies?”  When I was fifteen years old, I had questions about Samuel, but it took almost 25 years for me to even begin to articulate them. I regret that I had not sought the opportunity to thank Rabbi Dulitz before he was gone, but I pray that this serves as a fitting monument to him.

This is the story of an interesting argument over the interpretation of historical matters incidentally described in halachic works. For a few years, I made a number of assumptions regarding Maimonides’s views in this regard but recently those assumptions were challenged. 

A note on terminology: I will follow Maimonides’s precedent in this regard. That which the Israelites built in the wilderness and then established in a number of places within Israel is referred to as the mishkan, which is invariably rendered as Tabernacle, or as ohel mo’ed, Tent of Meeting, while the Temple is the translation of habayith, or some other construction, like beith adonay, and the word miqdash, Sanctuary, is the term that includes both Temple and Tabernacle alike, and which Maimonides uses to halachically define and equate all of the historical Sanctuaries:

מצות עשה לעשות בית לה’, מוכן להיות מקריבים בו הקרבנות, וחוגגין אליו שלוש פעמים בשנה–שנאמר “ועשו לי, מקדש” (שמות כה,ח); וכבר נתפרש בתורה משכן שעשה משה רבנו, והיה לפי שעה–שנאמר “כי לא באתם, עד עתה . . .” (דברים יב,ט)

 ואלו הן הדברים שהן עיקר בבניין הבית:  עושין בו קודש, וקודש הקודשים, ויהיה לפני הקודש מקום אחד והוא הנקרא אולם; ושלושתן נקראין היכל.  ועושין מחיצה אחרת סביב להיכל, רחוקה ממנו כעין קלעי החצר שהיו במדבר; וכל המוקף במחיצה זו שהוא כעין חצר אוהל מועד, הוא הנקרא עזרה. והכל נקרא מקדש

כיון שנכנסו לארץ, העמידו המשכן בגלגל ארבע עשרה שנה שכבשו ושחלקו.  ומשם באו לשילה, ובנו שם בית של אבנים; ופרסו יריעות המשכן עליו, ולא הייתה שם תקרה.  ושלוש מאות ותשע וששים שנה, עמד מקדש שילה. וכשמת עלי, חרב ובאו לנוב ובנו שם מקדש, וכשמת שמואל חרב ובאו לגבעון ובנו שם מקדש. ומגבעון באו לבית העולמים וימי נוב וגבעון, שבע וחמישים שנה

However, in many instances, the Bible uses all four and even some others as poetic synonyms. For the sake of clarity, I shall not.  

For some years now, I have  wondered about three things: Why is the destruction of the Tabernacle at Shiloh, although alluded to in the Book of Samuel and explicitly described in the Psalms and Jeremiah and the Mishna, not explicitly mentioned in Samuel? On the other hand, why does the Torah devote so much detail to the materials and construction of the Tabernacle, and why do the prophets give so much detail concerning the materials and construction of the First Temple, and then so much detail and reiteration when describing the First Temple’s destruction? Lastly, although we have no clear Talmudic or Mishnaic source for this claim, why is it that many commentators echo the claim of the Or Hahayim, that had the Temple been built by Moses, it never would have been destroyed? How did the Or Hahayim know that?

This website analyzes a number of topics which we have studied in the past, and its author, a prominent faculty member at Merkaz Harav with whom I have corresponded on this matter, offers an explanation that does not satisfy me because part of its basis is the assumption that the Tabernacle as it stood in Nov and Gibeon was not considered a full, halachic Sanctuary, whereas I feel it is clear from both the Yerushalmi and Maimonides’s commentary on the Mishna that the Tabernacles at Nov and Gibeon, despite the fact that they never housed the Ark of the Covenant, were as much complete sanctuaries as those at Shiloh and Jerusalem. While I  agree with his assertion that the main tragedy of Shiloh was the Ark of the Covenant’s falling into enemy hands, the idea that the rest of the Sanctuary’s destruction was insignificant because the Ark was already removed does not satisfy me, because by that logic, according to the major opinions that the Ark had been removed from the Temple decades before the Temple’s destruction, the Temple’s destruction would have also not been so tragic. Similarly, the Second Temple, which never housed the Ark, would also not have had a remarkably tragic destruction. These ideas are untenable.

Instead, I answered that the Torah dedicates so much detail to the construction of the Sanctuaries because they were the physical manifestations of Israel’s dedication to God’s service. The contributions of gold and silver transcended their physical value. They were the pride and joy of our people. The tragedy of the destruction of the First Temple was that due to our sins, the neglect of God’s law, the great riches that had been dedicated to the Temple fell into the hands of the heathens for their own profane use. This is a theme addressed by the prophets and sages, and part of the consolation of Zion that led to the building of the Second Temple was that they were returned. However, as history attests, the only component of the Mosaic Tabernacle that ever fell into enemy hands was the Ark, while the rest of Tabernacle, including its structural components and appointments, was evacuated from Shiloh before the Philistines got there, and eventually made its way to Nov, then Gibeon, and then was brought to be put into g’niza, permanent storage, under the Temple in Jerusalem. The Philistines merely demolished the stone walls that held up the impermanent, tent-like roof of the Shiloh Sanctuary and its stone altar, but the original altars of wood, bronze, and gold, for the burnt offerings and the incense, were saved. Thus, major tragedy was averted, although the people learned a harsh lesson. This explains why the prophets did not in any way detail the destruction of Shiloh like they did that of Jerusalem. No spoils were taken. I therefore suggest, as others have done before me, that the fact, mentioned in Sota 9b, that Moses’s major handiwork, the Tabernacle, never fell into enemy hands, is the basis for the idea that the same would have been true for the Temple. 

I recently had the honor of discussing these issues with Rabbi Shendorfi, and in response to his challenges, I collected the various sources within the writings of the Meiri, the Meshech Hochma, and the Hevel Nahalato that point to the absence of the Ark of the Covenant from the Sanctuaries at Nov and Gibeon as the reason, or perhaps the halachic mechanism that allowed, for the hetter bamoth, the permission to offer sacrifice outside of the Sanctuary. The original and complete Hebrew version of my analysis and conclusions is available here,, while an oral explanation thereof can be found in a series of Youtube videos here. God willing, their English counterparts will be made available soon.

The following is a summary of my main original arguments:

Maimonides describes two positive commandments (to offer all sacrifices in the chosen Sanctuary, and to bring all sacrificially designated things outside of Israel to the Sanctuary) and two negative commandments (not to slaughter sacrifices outside the Sanctuary courtyard, and not to burn any sacrifice outside the Sanctuary courtyard) that, as the sages point out in Z’vahim 14:4-10, did not apply when the Sanctuary stood in Nov and Gibeon. This is the state we refer to as hetter bamoth, when anyone could build his own bama, a “high place”, i.e., an altar, for private sacrifice.

The aforementioned commandments were taken very seriously early in our history; Joshua 22 describes how shortly after the Sanctuary was established at Shiloh, the Transjordanian tribes of Israel built a large, purely symbolic altar along the Jordan, and the other tribes were prepared to go to war against them for what was their seeming intention not to follow these commandments, while the book of Kings judges every single king of both Israel and Judah by how well each upheld these commandments. Every king of Israel starting from Jeroboam onward with the exception of Hosea son Elah, the last king of Israel, is faulted for maintaining places of sacrifice other than Jerusalem, while many kings of Judah are criticized for not abolishing the private altars that stood in their realms, and Hezekiah is the described as the greatest, most righteous king because he finally put an end to the practice. (I have always said that the modern political and religious establishment preventing Jews from visiting the site of the Temple, etc., is merely another manifestation of Jeroboam’s main policies, policies he and almost every one of his successors adopted in order to maintain their own grips on power. Thus, until an Israeli Prime Minister once again allows the Jewish People to worship God as per the Torah, they will all have “done evil in the eyes of God.”)

The main question before us is, therefore, on what basis did our ancestors establish altars and offer sacrifice outside of the Sanctuary during the time when it stood in Nov and Gibeon? What was the source or reason for this temporary suspension of a number of Biblical commandments?

The Meiri, noting that since the Ark of the Covenant was never present in the Sanctuaries at Nov and Gibeon, as is clear from the Book of Samuel, writes that its absence was the ostensible halachic allowance for sacrifice on private altars:

 הואיל ולא היה הארון קבוע עם המזבח – הותרו הבמות

Many similar sources can be found in Hevel Nahalato, available here. One of them is the Meshech Hochma, who claims that the Israelites were permitted, in isolated incidents, to offer sacrifice beyond the Shiloh Sanctuary when the Ark was temporarily removed from the Sanctuary. The problem is that this view of the Meshech Hochma, and the views of those who followed him, can not be resolved with Maimonides’s own commentary to the fourteenth chapter of Z’vahim, in which he explicitly writes, as per both Talmudim, that the hetter bamoth of the  Nov/Gibeon era was on the authority of an expository tradition of our sages (Z’vahim 119a):

When they came to Gibeon [and set up the Mishkan there], bamoth were [once again] permitted. How do we know that? — Because our Rabbis taught: “For you have not yet come to the m’nuha, the resting place and the nahala, the inheritance.” ‘The resting place’ alludes to Shiloh, ‘the inheritance’ alludes to Jerusalem. Why does Scripture separate them? [That is, why does scripture mention that there are two destinations?] In order to grant permission between one and the other.

See Maimonides’s complete commentary to Z’vahim 14, in which he also describes how the bamoth that existed before the Tabernacle was at Shiloh, when it was in Gilgal, were allowed by yet another derivation from the relevant verses, and not because the Ark was usually outside of the Tabernacle:

לפי שתלה הכתוב איסור הבמות במחנה והוא שנאמר אשר ישחט שור או כשב או עז במחנה ונתן טעם בזה למען אשר יביאו בני ישראל את זבחיהם וגו’ וזהו איסור הבמות לפי שמיום שפסקו המחנות [תרגום הרי׳׳ק: ״חיסול מחנות״] ונכנסו לארץ ר”ל ארץ כנען והוא הזמן שבאו לגלגל נסתלקה מצות לא תעשה זו ונשאר מותר 

As a matter of fact, according to the non-Maimonidean school, it would actually be quite imprecise for the sages of the Mishna to declare that there was a hetter bamoth during the Gilgal period, or any period for that matter. As a matter of fact, the entire style of the Mishna, to state whether there was a hetter bamoth or issur bamoth when the Sanctuary stood in any place, is pointless according to the Meiri and Meshech Hochma. Instead, the Mishna should have just stated a general rule at the outset that when the Ark was kept in the Tabernacle, the bamoth were prohibited, and when the Ark was taken out of the Tabernacle, the bamoth were permitted. As we will be reminded later on, the fact that the Mishna describes certain periods is exactly as the Talmud concludes: the permissibility of the bamoth depended on the time period, and not on a particular condition that could change during that period. 

One particular passage in Hevel Nahalato is particularly perplexing because he acknowledges Maimonides’s explanation for why the bamoth were permitted during the Gilgal period, but he then writes that the permission during the Nov/Gibeon period was granted because the Ark was absent.

 ישנה הסיבה בזמן נוב וגבעון שארון לא היה במקומו ואז המזבח ירד ממדרגתו להיות במה גדולה. וישנה הסיבה שהיתה בגלגל שבטלה החלוקה למחנות שכינה לויה וישראל ולכן אף המשכן כולו ירד ממדרגתו לדרגת במה גדולה\

This idea, which explicitly contradicts Maimonides’s own words, is echoed in later works, including those on the internet, such as this article by Rabbi Prof. Yoel Elitzur, son of the late Bible scholar Rabbi Yehuda Elitzur, and in it, he brings an answer that I recall hearing was also offered by Rabbi Soloveichik. He begins by citing another relevant passage from Maimonides’s laws (4:1):

When Solomon built the Temple, he was aware that it would ultimately be destroyed. [Therefore,] he constructed a chamber, in which the Ark could be entombed below [the Holy of Holies] in deep, maze-like vaults. King Josiah commanded that [the Ark] be entombed in the chamber built by Solomon, as it is said: “He said to the Levites, consecrated to the Lord, who taught all Israel, ‘Put the Holy Ark in the House that Solomon son of David, king of Israel, built…’” (II Chronicles 35:3).

This is unusual, as Rambam generally does not rule on historical questions in Mishneh Torah, including the interpretation of texts and even halakhic questions that were only relevant in the past (such as the permissibility of the bamoth), unless there is some practical halakhic implication for the present or the future, or if the question touches on a fundamental foundation of faith. In light of this, why did Rambam choose to rule with such certainty in our case, weighing in on what amounts to a Tannaitic historical dispute?

It is likely that the reason behind this ruling can be found in the Talmud Yerushalmi:

Rabbi Yassa said in the name of Rabbi Yohanan: “This is the rule – whenever the Ark is within [the Sanctuary], the bamot are forbidden; when it has left [the Sanctuary], the bamot are permitted.” Rabbi Ze’ira asked Rabbi Yassa: “Even [when the Ark has left the Sanctuary] temporarily, as in the case of Eli?” (Yerushalmi Megilla 1:12)

In the style of the Yerushalmi, Rabbi Ze’ira’s question that was seemingly left unanswered serves as its own conclusion: Indeed, even when the Ark leaves the Sanctuary temporarily, the bamot become permitted. Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk, in his Meshekh Chokhma commentary on Parashat Re’eh, expanded on this notion, using it to explain the apparent violation of the prohibition on bamot during the Shiloh period. According to him, during the time of the Mishkan in Shiloh, the Ark would be removed regularly from its place to be present at national gatherings elsewhere, and sometimes it would even remain in those other locations for extended periods of time. During those periods when the Ark was absent from the Mishkan in Shiloh, claims the Meshekh Chokhma, the bamot were permitted.

Now we can return to Rambam’s unusual ruling. In a different, well-known statement that is accepted as the normative halakha, Rambam rules that the “first consecration” performed by Solomon in Jerusalem applied “for that time and for eternity” (Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira 6:14). This ruling has several halakhic implications, both positive – we can offer sacrifices on the Temple site even without the Temple itself; we can eat the “most holy” sacrifices even without the “hangings” of the Courtyard; we can eat sacrifices of lesser sanctity and ma’aser sheni even without the wall surrounding Jerusalem (Mishna Eduyot 8:6; Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira 6:15) – and negative – the impure may not enter the area of the Courtyard; and bamot are prohibited outside of Jerusalem. In order to reconcile this ruling with the statement of the Yerushalmi, Rambam was forced to rule in accordance with Rabbi Judah son of Lakish – the Ark was hidden in its own place![11] If so, according to Rambam the Ark is still in its original location, waiting for us in the depths of the Holy of Holies, beneath the Foundation Stone in Jerusalem.

I wrote to Prof. Elitzur about how this is not a valid resolution to the question regarding Maimonides’s formulation because it assumes that the exchange between Rabbi Yassa and Rabbi Ze’ira is the bottom-line halacha and the conclusion of that Talmudic discussion, but in reality, the Talmud continues, and brings, at the conclusion of that section cited above, an elaboration of the mishnayoth in Z’vahim we saw above. There, at the conclusion of the first chapter of YT M’gilla, it explains why bamoth were prohibited during the Shilonic period, then permitted in the intervening period, and then permanently prohibited once the Temple was built: it was a d’rasha, an esoteric rule encoded in the unusual language of the prohibition, and it did not condition the hetter bamoth on the Ark’s constant presence in the Sanctuary, and is along the lines of the passage from Z’vahim 119a, above, and in the corresponding section from the Yerushalmi, after quoting the same verse referencing “the resting place” and “the inheritance,” and explaining that the former was Shiloh and the latter was Jerusalem, the consequences are explained:

Thus, while the Tent of Meeting [stood during the sojourn in the wilderness], the bamoth were prohibited. While [it stood] in Gilgal, the bamoth were permitted. While [it stood] in Shiloh, the bamoth were prohibited. While [it stood] in Nov and Gibeon, the bamoth were permitted. While [it stood] in Jerusalem, the bamoth were prohibited. [This can be compared] to a man who told his servant, “do not drink wine from Tiberias, nor from Caesarea, nor from Sephoris,” implying that from areas between those places, he could [drink wine].

And that is how Maimonides explains the Mishnayoth in his uncensored commentary to Z’vahim. This seems necessary, because the exposition of the verse about “the resting place” and “the inheritance” does not seem to teach anything about the Gilgal period, and it must be that the hetter bamoth of that period was due to some other factor. Be that as it may, Maimonides reiterates why there was a hetter bamoth between the Shiloh and Jerusalem eras: Moses, when he related this command, had implied that there would be a period between the two major Sanctuaries when the bamoth would once again be permitted.

It therefore turns out that Rabbi Yassa’s rule, actually a k’lal in the original Hebrew, should more accurately be translated as a “general principle,” less a declaration of halacha, and more of a mnemonic, a correlation that does not imply causation. If you will ask, how are we to remember if high places were permitted during the days of a particular sanctuary, then look for the Ark. The Ark stood in Shiloh, so the high places were then prohibited, but it did not stand in Nov and Gibeon, and therefore high places were permitted in their days. But Rabbi Ze’ira points out that this is too simplistic, because it implies that if the Ark were to have been removed from Shiloh temporarily, then the high places would have been temporarily permitted, or if the Ark were to be removed from the Temple in Jerusalem, it would also result in a hetter bamoth until it would be brought back, which is untenable, and explains why Rabbi Yassa has no rejoinder for Rabbi Ze’ira’s point, because the hetter bamoth, according to the conclusion of this Yerushalmi, and according to the plain meaning of the Bavli in Z’vahim, and according to Maimonides’s commentary, does not depend on the strict and immediate presence of the Ark of the Covenant in the Sanctuary, and that is why the Temple is still the Temple in its state of desolation according to Maimonides, even though the Ark has not been present therein since the late First Temple Period.

I also have a hard time accepting Rabbi Shendorfi’s terminology which implies that when the Ark is absent, the Sanctuary’s altar loses (lit. descends from its level of) sanctity and becomes a “bama g’dola, a great high place.” This term, bama g’dola, is actually greatly misunderstood, as we shall see. We also disagreed regarding the application of the word miqdash to the Tabernacles of Nov and Gibeon; I had written that the interpretation of what Maimonides wrote in the first source cited above meant that the Nov and Gibeon Sanctuaries were מקדשים לכל דבר, “Sanctuaries for all intents and purposes,” and this was also stated by Rabbi Bar Hayim in a series of recent lectures posted to Youtube, but Rabbi Shendorfi argued that Nov and Gibeon were not ״,מקדשים לכל דבר״ that they were somehow inferior or of lesser status, and the prophets never referred to Nov and Gibeon the way they referred to Shiloh and Jerusalem, and challenged me to prove my assertion. I think Maimonides’s opening ruling/definition is sufficient, and my challenge was instead to answer why the destruction of Shiloh became an afterthought, and why the subsequent Sanctuaries were not described with reverence.

I Kings 9:2-5, I Chronicles 22:1, and Psalms 132:14, and other relevant verses, as well as Laws of the Chosen Temple 1:3 and 6:13-16 show beyond any doubt that according to Maimonides, there is no indication that the sanctity of the Temple and the eternal prohibition against bamoth that were initiated with the Temple’s inauguration had anything to do with the absence or presence of the Ark in the Temple. Rather, they were made known to us expressly by the prophets and the Mosaic tradition.

Not only that, in those latter laws, Maimonides actually explains the nature of the Temple’s eternal sanctity and its halachic ramifications, and how their unconditional nature stands in stark contrast to the sanctity of the land of Israel, which is conditional, and therefore subject to nullification:

How was [the Second Temple] consecrated? With the first consecration initiated by Solomon, for he consecrated the Temple Courtyard and Jerusalem for that time and for eternity. Therefore, we may offer all the sacrifices [at the Temple], even though the Temple itself is not built. Similarly, the most holy sacrifices can be eaten in the entire [area of the] Courtyard, even though it is in ruin and not surrounded by a formal wall. We may also eat less holy sacrifices and the second tithe throughout Jerusalem, even though it is not [presently] surrounded by a wall, for through its original consecration, it was consecrated for that time and for eternity.

Why do I say that the original consecration sanctified the Temple and Jerusalem for eternity, while with regard to the consecration of the remainder of the Land of Israel, specifically regarding whether the Sabbatical year, tithes, and other related [agricultural] laws are in force, [the original consecration] did not sanctify it for eternity? Because the sanctity of the Temple and Jerusalem stems from the Divine Presence, and the Divine Presence can never be nullified. Thus, Leviticus 26:31 states: “I will lay waste to your sanctuaries.” The Sages declared: “Even though they have been devastated, their sanctity remains.”

In contrast, the [original] obligation to keep the laws of the Sabbatical year and tithes on the Land stemmed from the fact that it was conquered by the [Jewish people as a united] community. Therefore, when the land was taken from their hands [by the Babylonians,] their [original] conquest was nullified. Thus, according to Torah law, the land was freed from the obligations of the Sabbatical year and tithes because it was no longer “Land of Israel.”

That is, according to Maimonides, the sanctity of something is whether or not the relevant commandments and laws apply to it. An Aaronite priest is holy because specific commandments apply to him beyond those that apply to an ordinary Jew, whereas a halal, the offspring of a priest and a woman not fit for him, is desecrated, and the commandments and laws of the priesthood do not not apply to him. The land of Israel was promised to the Patriarchs and is eternally in the possession of the Jewish people, but its sanctity only exists under certain conditions, and it is only under those conditions that the laws and commandments actually apply therein. The idea of sanctity is a fundamental tenet of halacha, and applies in various forms to inanimate objects, vegetation, animals, people, places, and even time periods.

Most importantly, Maimonides writes explicitly how the Holy of Holies was holier than every other place:

בית קודש הקודשים מקודש ממנו שאין נכנס לשם אלא כהן גדול ביום הכיפורים, בשעת העבודה

The Holy of Holies is holier than [the rest of the Sanctuary edifice], as only the High Priest may enter there on Yom Kippur at the time of the service.

We see from this halacha that the essence of the Holy of Holies’ sanctity derived from the fact it was the place designated for more commandments than the other places, i.e., it had even stricter rules of limited entry than the rest of the Temple, and it was designated for a unique sacrificial service not performed elsewhere, and that is what made it holy, even when, for centuries perhaps, the Ark of the Covenant was absent. In the Guide to the Perplexed (3:45, based on the Friedlander translation), Maimonides explains that these defined areas of additional sanctity have a specific utility:

It is evident that the object of giving different degrees of sanctity to the different places, to the Temple Mount, the place between the two walls, to the women’s courtyard, to the Hall, and so on up to the Holy of Holies, was to raise the respect and reverence of the Temple in the minds of all who approached it.

The sixteenth-century commentator Radbaz has a classic explanation of Maimonides’s distinction between the sanctity of the Temple and the sanctity of the land, and it answers a question regarding the Mishna (Keilim 1) that Maimonides cites regarding the ten levels of sanctity within the Land of Israel:

The land of Israel is sanctified above all other lands. What is its sanctity? From it we bring the ‘omer, the bikkurim, and the two loaves of (pentecostal) bread.

Why doesn’t the Mishna just state that the land’s sanctity is that the mitzwoth hat’luyoth ba’aretz, the agricultural commandments that are contingent on the land, only apply in the land of Israel?

The answer is that the Mishna was aware that the main sanctity of the land is transient, that it was once conditional and then nullified, and therefore there were times when the land had no sanctity, i.e., the usual commandments were not in force. But, because the Temple’s sanctity is eternal and unconditional, and never lapsed, the sacrifices were always required, and the offerings mentioned in this Mishna are all public offerings of the Temple, and therefore this aspect of the land’s sanctity, which is a derivative of the Temple’s sanctity, is also eternal. That means, for example, that if during the times of the Babylonian exile, before work even began on the Second Temple and the altar was rebuilt, the Jews had an opportunity to offer sacrifice at the Temple ruins, as apparently happened at certain times even after the destruction of the Second Temple, and it was Passover or Pentecost, they would have to make sure that the grains they were using for the ‘omer and the pentecostal loaves, (also called bikkurim) had to come from the land of Israel, even though they could not and did not count the years of the Sabbatical cycle, or tithe their crops, or keep the other commandments that were contingent on the land.

Were the Temple’s sanctity conditional like that of the land’s sanctity, as the Meiri and the Meshech Hochma claim, I would have expected Maimonides to say so, just as he wrote how the land’s sanctity was once conditional and subject to nullification, and just as he wrote in the Book of Commandments regarding a similar issue:

If we were to suppose that the people of Israel were to disappear from the land of Israel – although it is sacrilege to say that God allow such a thing, as He has already promised that the remnant of this people shall neither be erased or uprooted – then our calculation [of the calendar] would not be of any utility to us whatsoever, because we are not supposed to calculate and intercalate the years and establish new moons outside of the land except for specific circumstances, and as we have explained, “for Torah shall go forth from Zion, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.”

According to Maimonides, the complete removal of the Jews from the land of Israel would be the destruction of the Jewish people.

This passage teaches us that the responsibility/necessity of a court to establish the Jewish calendar is, at least in theory, conditioned on the presence of that court within the land of Israel.

Thus, if the Temple’s sanctity was conditional, for example, on the presence of the Ark of the Covenant, we would have expected Maimonides to write something along the lines of:

If we were to suppose that the Ark of the Covenant were to disappear from the Temple – heaven forbid – then the entire sanctity of the Temple would be nullified, and we would not be able to offer any of the public sacrifices therein, even though the Temple would still be standing in all its grandeur, and we would not be able to eat the most holy sacrifices in the Temple Courtyard even if its walls were standing, and neither would we be able to eat less holy sacrifices and the second tithe within Jerusalem even if it had a wall, because the original sanctification of the Temple only has effect as long as the Ark remains in the Temple.

But Maimonides never wrote any such thing. It is very difficult to argue that according to Maimonides, or the sages for that matter, the sanctity of the Temple would be contingent on the presence of the Ark.

We will now turn to explaining what Maimonides’s intent was in seemingly ruling that the Ark of the Covenant was hidden in a secret chamber beneath the Temple Mount. The matter of the Ark’s disappearance from history is a matter of dispute both among secular researchers (at least among those who believe it ever existed) and our sages, and it seems that many of the proposed narratives are speculative and conjectural. How and why did Maimonides see fit to take sides in this argument?

As we have mentioned, the Meiri and Meshech Hochma et al. claim that the Ark must have stayed within the Temple for its sanctity to be able to persist, thus allowing for us to keep all of the positive and negative commandments of the Temple throughout history, even during the times the Temple stands in ruins, and even during Second Temple times. Although this could very well be a valid explanation for why some of the sages may have claimed that the Ark was hidden under the Temple, it certainly could not have been Maimonides’s reason.

My tentative answer is that with regards to historical and halachic disputes that have no clear resolution, it is Maimonides’s general practice to side with the position that draws the most scriptural support. In this case, there is a verse that seems to describe Josiah instructing the Priests and Levites to hide the Ark, and although Kings, Jeremiah, and Chronicles describe how the Babylonians destroyed and despoiled the Temple in great detail, no mention is made whatsoever of the Ark. This seems to indicate that the Ark was safely hidden before the destruction. This may also be the reason why the Mishna assumes that the Ark was hidden under the Temple, even though differing opinions existed among the sages. 

But why would Maimonides include his historical view at this point in the laws of the Temple?

My first answer is that just like in his introduction to the Yad, Maimonides lists all of the transmitters of the Oral Tradition in order to emphasize that the halachoth he records are solidly grounded in positive tradition, and in the first chapter of these laws he emphasizes the unbroken Jewish tradition of Sanctuary service since the revelation at Sinai until the permanent Temple in Jerusalem, and in the second chapter he brings the importance of the historical, eternal tradition of the location of the Altar, and in this fourth chapter, Maimonides emphasizes the Foundation Stone that lay prominently in the Holy of Holies, which has a long history parallel to that of the location of the Altar, and serves as its reference point. Yes, in the First Temple the Ark and the manna and Aaron’s staff rested upon the stone, but in the Second Temple, when they had already been hidden, the Foundation Stone was still there, and that was the important part. That is why Maimonides then describes how, because the location of the Holy of Holies needs to be exactly that as demanded by positive tradition, the builders of the Second Temple adjusted the plan of the partitions between the Holy and the Holy of Holies because of the doubt that had arisen. In each of these chapters, Maimonides’s purpose is to define a specific place to the exclusion of all others: The Temple Mount in Jerusalem to the exclusion of all other places in Israel, the place of the Altar as it always was to the exclusion of any other place on the Mount; the place of the Holy of Holies to the exclusion of any other place on the western part of the Mount. 

(Considering that because Maimonides already wrote in his commentary to the Mishna that the Temple’s sanctity is eternal and inalterable, and certainly not contingent on the presence of the Ark, I would have expected the Meshech Hochma and others to suggest that the sanctity of the Temple emanates from the presence of the Foundation Stone. I would not be surprised to learn that others have already suggested this.)

On the other hand, one might have thought that perhaps the location of the Holy of Holies should depend on that of the Ark, for example, if the Ark were now hidden 30 feet underground and a few hundred feet to the east of the where the foundation stone is (the Chamber of Wood was at the eastern end of the Temple’s outer courtyard), the Second Temple’s edifice should have been built directly over that new spot.

Secondly, Maimonides mentions that the Ark and the other items, Aaron’s staff, and the manna and the anointing oil, are still intact because these items serve as the tokens of the covenant (see below). A couple can not stay together alone in the house, or vacation on the opposite side of the world together, if they do not know where their k’thuba is. So too, Maimonides needed to write that the Temple is still God’s chosen place to be with His chosen people, and the marriage contract and the tokens of the covenant are still there for safekeeping.

Thirdly, Maimonides is following an idea found in the Midrash (Genesis Rabba 79:7):

“[Jacob] bought the section of the field where he had pitched his tent for one hundred qesita.” Rabbi Judah b. Simon said, “this is one of three places with which the nations of the world cannot deride Israel saying, ‘they are not lawfully yours:’ the Cave of the Patriarchs, the Holy Temple, and Joseph’s burial plot.

The verse described how all of these places were bought by Abraham, David, and Jacob respectively, for large sums. History has shown time and again that the people of Israel have endured the strange fortune of having to fight to maintain their historical connection to their eponymous land, even though the Chinese and Bulgarians and most others have not had to fight to maintain theirs.

Maimonides foresaw how one day, the nations of the world would challenge Israel’s right to the land of Israel, Jerusalem, the Temple Mount, and the places of the Altar and the Sanctuary, and that they would thus challenge the intrinsic and eternal holiness of those places. He thus brought the history and the enduring connection of those places to the Jewish tradition when explaining how their eternal sanctity affects the commandments that are meant to be performed in those places.

Rabbi Shendorfi used Rashi’s comments on Z’vahim 61b in an attempt to show how the Sanctuaries at Nob and Gibeon were of lesser holiness, but I disagreed with him because, in that context, Rashi was specifically addressing the construction of the altars at those two Sanctuaries, and as per the discussion on the previous folio, those altars only possessed a temporary sanctity that had long since passed, as opposed to the sanctity of the transportable, bronze altar of the Tabernacle, which maintained some of its sanctity even when it was not in usable condition, and the holiness of the Temple altars, which exists to this day at the site of the altar, even though the altar itself still awaits to be rebuilt. 

I will not translate the detailed disagreement regarding the interpretation of Z’vahim 119a, regarding where the second tithe was consumed in the years after the destruction of Shiloh and before the Temple was built. The Hevel Nahalato wondered why Maimonides and the Bartenura did not interpret the Mishna according to Rabbi Judah’s position if the halacha is normally in accordance with Rabbi Judah. My answer is that the Hevel Nahalato assumes that Rabbi Judah’s opinion is as explained by Rashi, but Maimonides and Bartenura understand the discussion entirely differently, and in their view, they do interpret the Mishna as being in accordance with Rabbi Judah. 

I suggest that it is a fallacious tendency to causally link the facts that the Ark was not present in both Nov and Gibeon and that at those times there was a hetter bamoth. However, correlation does not mean causation, as can be seen from the conclusions of both Talmudim and Maimonides’s commentary. The hetter bamoth was not due to the absence of the Ark, although it did coincide with the absence of the Ark. As I wrote earlier, this was even a rejected hawa amina in the Talmud. I am therefore not surprised that the rabbinic-literary record shows that this hawa amina appeared a few times in history. 

In the 20th century works that did assume this causal relationship, a slew of Biblical and Talmudic sources was marshaled as proof, but each time the indication was that indeed there was a correlation, but no proof of causation. For example, the Tosefta at the end of Z’vahim says “What was the great bama during the period of the hetter bama? The Tent of Meeting was pitched as normal, but the Ark was not there.” This, as the Hevel Nahalato and Rabbi Shendorfi pointed out, seems to say that the hetter bamoth may have been due to the absence of the Ark, but we should first ask what this teaching tells us beyond what is explicitly mentioned in many verses in Kings, Chronicles, and Samuel, including this one (I Kings 3:3-4):

Solomon loved the Lord, walking in the statutes of David his father; he would only slaughter and sacrifice in the [official] high places. The king went to Gibeon to sacrifice there; for that was the great bama; Solomon offered a thousand burnt-offerings upon that altar. 

The answer happens to be found in the two previous verses (ibid., 1-2):

Solomon married into Pharaoh, king of Egypt’s, family; he married Pharaoh’s daughter, and brought her to the city of David until he completed building his own house, the Temple of the Lord, and the wall of Jerusalem roundabout. Yet the people still sacrificed at the high places, because there was still no Temple built for the name of the Lord in those days. 

That is, the bamoth would become prohibited once the Temple was built. This verse is the clearest Biblical source for the Talmudic/Maimonidean position. Indeed, the Tabernacle stood in Gibeon while the Ark was first in Abinadab’s house and then in Jerusalem, and at that time Gibeon was called the “great bama” and other bamoth were permitted, but the reason for bamoth being permitted was because the permanent Temple had yet to be built.   

This is actually quite profound. One might have argued that if a “great bama” was at Gibeon, while an ordinary [minor] bama is any other private altar, then ever since David brought the Ark to Jerusalem and the prophets had endorsed his plan to build a permanent Temple in Jerusalem, and they had established an altar at what would be the site of the future, permanent Temple, there were actually two national central places of worship: the great bama in Gibeon, and the bama that already stood in Jerusalem, at the site of the future Sanctuary which God had chosen and which was accompanied by God’s messiah and His Ark. The verses therefore teach us that even though Solomon was stationed in Jerusalem, and he already had an established altar at the designated site of the Temple and the Ark of the Covenant was already waiting there in Jerusalem, the Tabernacle at Gibeon, where only Aaronite priests could serve and where the sacrificial service was done on the nation’s behalf every day “as per the the Torah of Moses” (I Chronicles 16:39-40) was still the only place true place of national, central worship, and for example, the Paschal offering could only be brought there (Laws of the Paschal Offering 1:2-3). I believe that there were perhaps thousands who were of this belief already in the last few years of David’s reign, especially after many Israelites became uncomfortable with making their pilgrimages to Gibeon, which, although a priestly city (Joshua 21:17), was also inhabited by cruel, unforgiving non-Jews (II Samuel 21:1-7), and had twice been the site of inter-Israelite, political violence (II Samuel 2:12-17 and 20:8). 

This idea is actually alluded to in Moses’s prayer when the Israelites would begin their journeys in the wilderness. “the Ark of the Lord’s Covenant would travel before them… to seek out m’nuha, rest, for them” (Numbers 10:33). “And when the Ark traveled, Moses said, Arise O Lord, and Your enemies will be dispersed, and those who hate You will flee from before You” (ibid., 35). As we saw, m’nuha is a reference to the Shiloh Sanctuary and its time period. That is, when the Israelites first came into Canaan, as Maimonides described, the land was sanctified through their conquests, when the Ark of the Covenant would lead them out to war. (As we wrote earlier, every one of the Israelite’s journeys from Sinai were acts of war and conquest). The Ark would go out to war with the people throughout their conquests, until at the end of those conquests, it, along with the rest of the Tabernacle, was brought to its first resting place in Shiloh, but after that, once God had come to His permanent resisting place, His nahala, portion, the Land would be sanctified not through war and conquest, but by the mere presence of His people. 

Another ramification of the Talmudic outlook regarding the hetter bamoth is that we are not obliged, like the Meshech Hochma and others were, to explain examples in the Books of Joshua and Judges wherein the Israelites built altars and offered sacrifice beyond the Shiloh Sanctuary as instances of when the Ark was temporarily removed from the Sanctuary. Instead, just like we find explicitly regarding Elijah at Mt. Carmel, and Gideon (Judges 6:25-26) and Manoah (ibid., 13:16), God expressly instructed them to offer sacrifice then and there, what the sages called a hora’ath sha’a, a one-time dispensation, the other instances were also similarly prophetic temporary dispensations. 

Another Biblical passage presents a challenge to the Meiri’s position. Upon witnessing the Clouds of Glory fill the Temple, Solomon declared (I Kings 8:18-21):

Now it was in the heart of my father David to build a temple for the Name of the Lord, God of Israel, but the Lord said to my father David: Because it was in your heart to build a temple for My name, you have done well with what was in your heart; However, you shall not build the Temple. Rather, your son, who shall come from out of your loins, he shall build the Temple for My Name. The Lord has kept His word that He spoke, and I have risen up in place of my father David, and I have sat on the throne of Israel, as the Lord spoke, and I have built the Temple for the Name of the Lord, God of Israel, and I have set therein a place for the Ark in which is the covenant of the Lord, which He forged with our fathers when He brought them out of the land of Egypt.’

According to the Meiri et al., why would Solomon need to say this? Isn’t the Temple’s very sanctity conditional on the presence of the Ark? Isn’t it supposed to be there? So why is it remarkable that Solomon’s magnificent Temple had a place for the Ark?

The answer is that, as Maimonides already implied, the Temple does not necessarily need the Ark. Yes, it was there during our best eras, but, as the Gibeon/Nov and Second Temple eras show, the Ark is far from necessary, and one should not assume that it would always be housed in the Sanctuary. An amazing aspect of the First Temple was that for the first time in decades, the Ark could once again be housed in the Holy of Holies.

Concerning the fact that Maimonides did not list an independent commandment to fashion the Ark, it must be noted that as he lists only one commandment to build and upkeep the Temple, and all of the service vessels within the Temple are included in the one commandment, and he does even count independent commandments to make those vessels that were actually used in the course of the service, e.g., the altars and the candelabrum, it is understandable why the Ark, which served no ritual purpose, enjoys no commandment regarding its own fabrication. This also explains why no replacement ark was created for the Second Temple: it served no practical purpose and did not and could not be replaced, because its purpose was disconnected from any Temple service. Only Solomon, and not Samuel, David, or Saul, installed the Ark in the Sanctuary when the time came. We see from this that it did not bother anyone that the Sanctuary lacked the Ark until then.

Josiah’s aforementioned removal of the Ark from the Temple did not in any way change the function or sanctity of the Temple.

Zerubbabel and Jeshua the High Priest received a mandate from Cyrus to do whatever was necessary to found and rebuild the Temple, and although they were guided by three prophets, they never sought to locate the Ark and return it, and they were never told to do so. Neither Ezra nor Nehemiah tried to do so even though they could have. Neither did any subsequent Jewish ruler: Simon the Just, the Maccabees, Simon ben Shetah, or Herod, who demolished the original structure of the Second Temple in order to build an even grander one under the guidance of the sages. All of these Second-Temple figures had just as much legal access to the entire Temple Mount as the modern Israeli government, and much less outside interference, if any at all. 

The Mishna does mention that there was a priest who believed that he may have found an indication of the Ark’s hiding place, and that he died a miraculous, sudden, and horrific death before he could share his find. This was a heavenly sign that the Ark was not supposed to be in the Second Temple. (In a nod to the teachings of R’ Avigdor Miller, I would argue that the benefit here was that the testimony contained in the Ark could not be claimed and hijacked by sectarian groups, the Sadducees, the Boethusians, and the Christians, that arose in that era and who did hijack the Temple and our scriptures when they had opportunities. At the very least, the Philistines who seized the Ark respected it as a vanquished god and learned to treat it with awe, and one could imagine that the Babylonians, who, according to some scholars both Jewish and non-Jewish, may have likewise shown some reverence to the Ark, but in the hands of the Christians it would be treated in a manner completely sacrilegious, or, God forbid as proof to their legitimacy. Until today, the Ethiopian Christians make such claims regarding the non-Ark they claim to possess.)

From a philosophical perspective, there never was and still is no reason to seek the Ark. In Hebrew, the Ark is referred to as both the Ark of the Covenant and the Ark of the Testimony because it holds the testimony, the physical relics, of the covenant enacted at Sinai: the tablets and the Torah are analogous to the Jewish institution of the marriage contract which is signed by both parties. In this case, the covenant has one document signed by God Himself, so to speak, the tablets, and the other by Israel’s legal representative, Moses, the Torah written by his hand. The Torah scroll itself was finalized by Moses on the day he died, when he contracted a second covenant with Israel, the covenant in the Plains of Moab, with the new generation that replaced the first. Nahmanides writes about how the Redemption from Egypt climaxed with the construction of the Tabernacle, while Solomon, in his speech at the Temple’s dedication, emphasized that the new edifice was to house the Ark of the covenant that began with the Exodus, which is why, of all of the events in scripture aside from the Passover observed in the wilderness a year after the Exodus, the dedication of Solomon’s Temple is dated to the year of the Exodus, as it was a continuation of that redemptive process.

However, in the interim exile, when the Second Temple’s construction was drawn out, the Jews reaccepted the Torah and the commandments anew, and out of love, as per the sages’ teaching regarding the ninth chapter of Esther, “the Jews accepted and upheld for themselves and for their descendants” that which they had previously accepted, and thus we had a new diaspora-born covenant that ascended to Israel with the builders of the Second Temple. The signing of this New Deal took place in the rebuilt Temple, as described in the latter part of the book of Nehemiah, among the people and their representatives led by Ezra, who, as the sages tell us, was worthy of receiving the Torah on Israel’s behalf, and was the one who had the final say as to the authorized text of the Torah, and who changed its script. The new tokens of this new covenant, Ezra’s Torah scrolls, were kept safely in the Temple, while the artisans fashioned new, engraved cherubim to adorn the back wall of the Holy of Holies, as though a replacement for the Ark of the Covenant, and analogous to the replacement marriage contract that the sages ordered a man to write for his wife if the original is no longer. The Ark of the Covenant was made to contain the physical evidence of the covenant and act as a divine antenna, but during the time of the Second Temple, the people saw how the Divine Presence rests upon Israel even in the Ark’s absence, and the people themselves carried or demonstrated the tokens of the eternal covenant with their very bodies.

This was foretold in Jeremiah 31:

Behold, days are coming, says the Lord, and I will enact a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah; not like the covenant that I made with their fathers the day that I took them by their hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, for they abrogated My covenant, although I lorded over them, says the Lord. For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will have placed My Torah within them, and I will write it upon their heart; I will be a God for them, and they shall be a nation for Me.

(See also Rashi’s commentary to Jeremiah 3:16.)

Even when the Ark’s whereabouts were known, its function was exclusively as a prophetic antenna, and even when it is was stowed away in Abinadab’s house, the prophets flourished, and when it was ultimately hidden, Josiah told the people that although the priests no longer had any responsibility to protect and transport the Ark, the people should continue to serve God as they always were supposed to have done. And even after that, new prophets arose in Israel. Thus, nothing actually changed when the Ark was lost, and we are hard-pressed to find any example of how, when the Ark’s location was known, our manner of serving God was supposed to be different from the way it is now.

The Mishna mentions that the sages approved of Hezekiah’s destruction of the brazen serpent Nehushtan that Moses had fashioned. At the time, the people had started to ascribe powers to the inanimate object, and this smacked of idolatry. I believe his great-grandson Josiah’s decision to hide the Ark was along the same lines, especially given the impending destruction which he sought to avoid. Shortly before the destruction of Shiloh, the people had looked to the Ark in an inappropriate manner, thinking that it somehow guaranteed them divine protection and victory in battle, and this was also slightly idolatrous. The Ark contains the documentation of the covenant, but the covenant still has to be kept if the Jews wish to merit divine protection. At that point, they were punished by being routed in battle, and having the Ark captured and the Sanctuary destroyed, and much of Samuel’s subsequent work was to get the people to abandon the idolatry to which they had become accustomed. The verse explicitly connects the Ark’s concealment with the people returning to the pure worship of God (I Samuel 7:2-3):

It was that from the day that the Ark abode in Kiriath-Jearim, that many years passed, it was ultimately twenty years, and the entire house of Israel was drawn to the Lord.

Samuel said to the entire house of Israel, saying: If you return to the Lord with all your heart, then get rid of the foreign gods and the ashtaroth from among yourselves, and direct your hearts to the Lord, and serve Him exclusively, and He will deliver you from the hand of the Philistines.

The first of these two verses describes the entire twenty-year period, the latter describes Samuel’s initiation of the repentance movement.

Josiah was trying to pre-empt this type of after-the-fact reaction to retribution. His generation believed that the very Temple was invincible and would afford them lasting protection (Jeremiah 7:4), and this may have been due to an overly literal understanding of the Sanctuary as God’s residence, as that is what seems to be indicated by the words in Exodus, but in actuality, in Moses’s own words in Deuteronomy and in the traditional Targumim, the Temple did not and can not possibly contain the One Whose glory fills the universe, but rather, it is a place dedicated to His name and service. Their reliance was possibly fatal, and Josiah therefore sought to show them that the Temple did not need the Ark in order to function, and that it was not some sort of talisman. In essence, he wanted to bring about the pure state of both private religious devotion and public sacrificial service that had been in Samuel’s time, but without having to suffer the destruction of the Sanctuary. The sages themselves discuss such forms of pre-emptive remedies, such as self-imposed lashes and exile for penitents, and praying outdoors and visiting cemeteries on emergency fast days.

This argument can be seen from the progression of events in II Chronicles 34 and 35. There are those who argue that the proof text for Josiah hiding the Ark, 35:3, actually describes Josiah returning the Ark to its rightful place within the Sanctuary, because either his father or grandfather had removed it, but if that were the case, we would have expected to find Josiah doing so much earlier in the narrative, when he became an adult and ordered the refurbishing of the Temple, during the course of which the priests found the ominous Torah scroll which prompted the king and his advisors to seek Hulda’s guidance. When her prophecy of impending destruction was heard, Josiah began his national campaign of repentance in an effort to stave off the impending disaster, ridding the land of idolatry and having the people enter into a new covenant to keep the Torah. In context, the hiding of the Ark can be seen as an act meant to ensure that the people’s intentions in their worship of God would be pure and exactly as the Torah had commanded.

Indeed, in the recently released Steinsaltz Tanakh in English, a similar point is made in the commentary to Jeremiah 3:16.

As for the important question, “isn’t the idea of the Sinaitic covenant being superseded dangerously close to the Christian doctrine which proposes a New Testament and a new covenant with a newly chosen people to replace Israel?” The answer is thankfully no, because what we have seen in our very own Torah (the covenant in the Plains of Moab) and in the rest of the Bible, as we mentioned, are not new covenants but merely reaffirmations of the original eternal covenant, and that which has been replaced is limited to the documentation thereof. To what is this analogous? To a lender who lost his promissory note, and has a new one issued to him by the court. The attestations are the same, that the loan was given on such a date to so-and-so and due at such time, except that it now supersedes the previous note if it were to be found. So too, the covenant since the time of the Second Temple is the same covenant of Abraham and Sinai, just attested to by different exhibits.

I certainly do not buy the argument that Josiah hid the Ark of the Covenant in order to protect it from falling into the hands of the Babylonian conquerors because there does not seem to be any scriptural support for this contention, and because unlike the other Temple appointments, which fell into the hands of both the Babylonians and Romans, and were then desecrated, we already have seen what happened to the Ark when it was captured by the uncircumcised heathens: it brought retribution upon them. Had the Babylonians or Romans been foolish enough to take the Ark, they would have learned their lesson even faster than the Philistines did.

Instead, I offer this passage from Sh’qalim (6:1):

מי גנזו יאשיהו גנזו כיון שראה שכתוב (דברים כח) יולך ה’ אותך ואת מלכך אשר תקים עליך אל גוי אשר לא ידעת אתה ואבותיך עמד וגנזו הדא הוא דכתיב (דברי הימים ב לה) ויאמר ללוים המבינים ולכל ישראל הקדושים לה’ תנו את ארון הקדש בבית אשר בנה שלמה בן דוד מלך ישראל אין לכם משא בכתף אמר להם אם גולה הוא עמכם לבבל אין אתם מחזירין אותו עוד למקומו אלא (שם) עתה עבדו את ה’ אלהיכם ואת עמו ישראל

Josiah said to the Levites, “if the Ark goes into exile with you, you will never return it to its place.”

Notice that Josiah was not afraid of the Babylonians taking the Ark; as we saw it it could take very good care of itself. Instead, he was afraid the Levites would take it to accompany the people in exile, and then once it would be there in Babylonia, the Levites would, for whatever reason, not return it to the Temple when the time came. Why not? Well, as we read in Ezra, there was little enthusiasm to leave Babylonia when the time came, and the Levites were especially lackadaisical. Nothing has changed in all these centuries. To take the Jews out of the exile, you first have to take the exile out of the Jews. Now imagine the Ark had joined the Jews in exile. They would have come up with all sorts of lofty-sounding divrei torah about how the Divine Presence is with them in Babylonia, how their synagogues are much more than miqd’shei m’at, and other such justifications, just as today we delude ourselves with excuses for not leaving the diaspora, not voting for leadership that pledges to uphold the Torah, and not pressing for the building of the Temple. W’hameivin yavin.

Rabbi Shendorfi then asked me incredulously, “The Ark does go in the Holy of Holies. Is that not what grants it its holiness?” and my answer was no, it has intrinsic holiness in that it has limited access, as the Mishna states. However, it is also the ideal place for storing not only the Ark, but also other major symbolic objects, like the manna and Aaron’s staff, but even so, sometimes circumstances call for some or all of those items to be removed from the Holy of Holies, but that by no means detracts from its holiness. 

Finally, returning to terminology, the sages followed the Biblical precedent of using the terms “great bama” and “minor bama” in the same way they referred to synagogues and study halls since the times of the Babylonian exile as miqd’shei m’at (based on Ezekiel 11:16), lit. “minor sanctuaries,” as opposed to THE miqdash. That is, during David’s time, because altars were called bamoth, even if they were not literally “high places,” the central, national altar was called “the great bama.” 

We should also note that even though we find the term “great bama” regarding Gibeon in the Bible, we do not find it regarding Nov, even though it is obvious that the Tabernacle stood there. Further, it is well known that the site of the Sanctuary at Shiloh was neither on top of any hill or mountain, nor was it in a particularly low spot, but rather in a level area on the side of a hill.

(The author standing in the vineyards below the site of the Tabernacle at Shiloh. The Tabernacle stood on the side of the hill in the center of the picture, above his left shoulder.)

We also have no indication that the Tabernacle, at any station in the wilderness or at Gilgal, was ever erected at a particularly high place. Thus, it seems to me that the novelty of these verses is two-fold: Gibeon was the first place that the Israelites erected the Tabernacle in a place that was noticeably elevated, and that place was called “the [great] bama” because of its appearance. That it, is in the Bible, the Sanctuary was always referred to as “the  Tabernacle” or House of the Lord, etc., while its location in Gibeon was descriptively called “the great bama,” and many years later, long after the Jerusalem Temple became established, the altar at Gibeon was then referred to as “the great bama“, and the sages eventually referred to the entire Sanctuary at Gibeon as “the great bama.” This is reminiscent of how, in the language of the Talmud and the Rishonim, there is the issue of k’nisa, entering, or biath, coming into, the miqdash (Maimonides even has a whole class of laws called “biath miqdash“), whereas today, the controversy is referred to as k’nisa l’har habayit, “entering the Temple Mount,” or even more distantly, aliya l’har habayit, “ascending the Temple Mount.” I, in the spirit of accuracy and fidelity to tradition, use the Maimonidean term in order to stress the importance of the commandment in our day; we are not just walking around the perimeter of the Temple Mount. לשכנו תדרשו, ובאת שמה. We are going to the Temple.[1]

Thus, we see that the prophets never referred to the Gibeon Sanctuary as “the great bama,” but rather to only its location as “the great bama,” and every halachic distinction between the private bamoth and “the great bama” discussed by the sages is only in the realm of the service on those altars, but with regard to every other aspect of the service that did not involve the altar, e.g., the services done with the other appointments, such as the candelabrum, the golden altar, and the table of the shewbread, and all the laws of the priesthood, there were no differences. That is, contrary to what the Hevel Nahalato argued, the public sanctuary service throughout the Nov and Gibeon periods was in no way different from that of the Shiloh and Jerusalem periods, with the only exception being the allowance to eat “the less holy sacrificial foods in any city of Israel,” as the Mishna states explicitly. Many, as can be seen, have suggested that certain sacrifices were simply not offered during the Nov and Gibeon periods, but these arguments can not be made within Maimonides’ understanding of the sources. 

I was then challenged by the following passage from the Guide wherein Maimonides proposes reasons for the Temple appointments (ibid.):

It is known that the heathens in those days built temples to stars, and set up in those temples the image which they agreed upon to worship; because it was in some relation to a certain star or to a portion of one of the spheres. We were, therefore, commanded to build a temple to the name of God, and to place therein the Ark with two tables of stone, on which there were written the commandments “I am the Lord,” etc., and “Thou shalt have no other God before me,” etc. Naturally the fundamental belief in prophecy precedes the belief in the Law, for without the belief in prophecy there can be no belief in the Law. But a prophet only receives divine inspiration through the agency of an angel… From the preceding remarks it is clear that the belief in the existence of angels is connected with the belief in the Existence of God; and the belief in God and angels leads to the belief in Prophecy and in the truth of the Torah. In order to firmly establish this creed, God commanded [the Israelites] to make the form of two angels on top of the Ark. The belief in the existence of angels is thus inculcated into the minds of the people, and this belief is second in importance to the belief in God’s Existence; it leads us to believe in prophecy and in the Torah, and opposes idolatry. If there had only been one figure of a cherub, the people would have been misled and would have mistaken it for God’s image which was to be worshiped, in the fashion of the heathen; or they might have assumed that the angel [represented by the figure] was also a deity, and would thus have adopted a Dualism. By making two cherubim and distinctly declaring “the Lord is our God, the Lord is One,” Moses clearly proclaimed the theory of the existence of a number of angels; he left no room for the error of considering those figures as deities, since [he declared that) God is one, and that He is the Creator of the angels, who are more than one.

Although this could be seen as Maimonides stressing that the Ark was an almost critical fixture of the Sanctuaries, when we consider that in his definition, three Sanctuaries never housed the Ark, we realize that here Maimonides is actually emphasizing the form of the Cherubim that adorned the Ark, and that, as pointed out by the sages, even when the Ark was absent from the Sanctuary, other Cherubim were still within the Holy of Holies: Solomon constructed two, larger wood and gold Cherubim that stood in the First Temple, while in the Second Temple there were Cherubim carved into the wooden interior wall of the Holy of Holies (Yoma 54), and they were overlaid with gold. Thus, the important symbolic and ideological message of the Cherubim was never missing from the Temple, even if the Ark was. 

This entire discussion began with an attempt to explain why the destruction of Shiloh was almost ignored in the book of Samuel, and is only invoked in passing in other prophetic books. In truth, the book of Samuel is entirely transitory in nature. It is the story of the transition between the old, egalitarian system, to a rigid, exclusive establishment.

In one of his previous videos, Rabbi Bar Hayim discussed the commandment to build the Temple, specifically the statement of the sages that the Israelites were commanded to appoint a king, destroy Amalek, and build the Temple, implying that the order described is required, and meaning that the Temple could only be built by a king, which many authorities understood to mean that in the event there is no king in Israel, as is the case, for example, now, then there is no obligation to build the Temple. Rabbi Bar Hayim disagrees with this position; Maimonides for example, in the previously cited section from the Guide explains that a king would only be required not for the construction of the Temple per se, but 

chiefly, every one of the twelve tribes would desire to have this place in its borders and under its control; this would lead to divisions and discord, such as were caused by the desire for the priesthood. Therefore it was commanded that the Temple should not be built before the election of a king who would order its erection, and thus remove the cause of discord. 

The king is necessary for us to get past the selection of a place for the Temple, but once that is no longer going to be disputed, a king would not be necessary.

Alternatively, a hereditary monarch might not be totally necessary; perhaps, as we have seen before, the role of a Jewish king can also be filled by a prophet or Judge, as Maimonides writes specifically regarding the commandment to conquer the land. This would explain how the Tabernacle and the Second Temple were built under the leadership of Moses and Zerubbabel as the undisputed leaders of Israel, respectively, even though neither held the title of king. A prime minister would be no different.

It is therefore my proposal that in the days of Joshua, who was the most faithful to Moses’s teachings and knew the Torah better than anyone else, the Israelites did fulfill these three commandments. Joshua was for all intents and purposes the king of Israel just like Moses was, the Israelites had concluded their wars for the security of the people, which is the essence of milhemeth amalek, and by building a semi-permanent Sanctuary at Shiloh, they fulfilled the commandment to build the Temple. For close to four hundred years, no one doubted that the Israelites and their chosen leader had not done exactly “as God commanded Moses.” However, as history has shown, the prophets were still among us, and even though once upon a time, certain crowns had yet to be taken, the prophets could inform us that eventually those crowns would fall into certain hands exclusively. 

Before David, they knew that the Tabernacle could be transferred to a new place, as long as God ordained it. Even Shiloh, the place that God did choose, was eventually “rejected” (Psalms 78:60, 67). The Tabernacle reverted to its original, transportable condition, until It finally found its permanent, never-to-be-replaced home. In that intervening period, the Ark was even waiting  for the Tabernacle to leave its temporary place in Gibeon and join it in Jerusalem. The Tabernacle was moving frequently, and when it reached its penultimate station, it was even rivaled by its eventual replacement. With regards to the priesthood, in the old system any of Aaron’s descendants were eligible for the high priesthood, and the sages pointed out that the high priests had been descended from both of Aarons’ surviving sons, Elazar and Ithamar. However, even though Eli’s family held the high-priesthood at the end of the Shiloh period, as we see from Saul’s massacre of that family at Nov, and the subsequent transfer of the Tabernacle to Gibeon where Zadok’s family apparently had lived since Joshua’s days, in the intervening period both Abiathar and Zadok enjoyed the privileges of the high priesthood, and many verses in Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles, as well as teachings of our sages, point to the growing tension between the two men and their families throughout David’s reign, leading to a dangerous intrigue that saw Zadok being appointed the exclusive high priest and Solomon letting Abiathar live despite his perhaps selfish involvement in insurrection. From then on, the prophets would describe how the high priesthood would be exclusively in the hands of Zadok’s house. The high priesthood was up for grabs, and when it reached its penultimate officeholder, he was rivaled by his eventual replacement. Most noticeably, in the old system leadership was open to all of the tribes of Israel, and the sages claimed that every tribe produced one of the Judges. However, Samuel, who was a Levite just like Moses, presided over the transition from his unofficial role in lieu of king, to a temporary, conditional, Benjamite dynasty, to a state of two competing kingdoms (Ishbosheth and David) to that of an eternal, Davidic dynasty, and even David’s own family suffered from instability until Solomon was a few years into his reign. Leadership was changing hands, and when it reached its penultimate office holder, he was even rivaled by his eventual replacement. These three houses, the House of God in Jerusalem, the House of David, and the House of Zadok, would form an inseparable union, and they would forever retain the crowns they had earned, even though those crowns used to change hands regularly.

These transitions were all described by Samuel and the anonymous prophet who preceded him (I Samuel 3:11-14). The destruction of Shiloh:

The Lord said to Samuel: Behold, I will do a thing in Israel, at which both ears of everyone who hears it shall tingle.

This expression is an allusion to the destruction of the Sanctuary, as can be clearly seen by its use in two later prophecies of the Sanctuary’s destruction, in II Kings 21:12 and Jeremiah 19:3. 

The House of Eli would be cursed:

On that day I will execute against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from the beginning even unto the end. For I have told him that I will judge his house forever, for the iniquity, in that he knew that his sons did bring a curse upon themselves, and he did not rebuke them. Therefore, I have sworn unto the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall never be expiated with sacrifice nor offering. 

and replaced:

And I will raise up a faithful priest for Myself, who shall do according to that which is in My heart and in My mind; and I will build a steady house for him, and he shall walk before My anointed forever. 

And this prophecy foreshadowed the rise of the Davidians, under whose tenure the Zadokite priests officiated (I Chronicles 29:22):

They ate and drank before the Lord on that day with great gladness. They made Solomon the son of David king for a second time, and anointed him for the Lord as ruler, and Zadok as priest.

Later, in the days of the building of the Second Temple, the prophet Zechariah described how these three great houses which had suffered from so much corruption leading up to the First Temple’s destruction, would experience a period of divine renewal (Zechariah 4:9-13):

The hands of Zerubbabel laid the foundation of this house; his hands shall also finish it, and you shall know that the Lord of Hosts has sent me to you. For who has despised the day of small things? Even they shall see with joy the plummet in Zerubbabel’s hand, even these seven [candles], which are the eyes of the Lord which dart to and fro across the whole earth. I Then responded, and said to him: ‘What are these two olive-trees on the right of the candelabrum and on its left?’ I responded a second time, and said to him, ‘What are these two olive branches, which are beside the two golden spouts, that empty the golden oil out of themselves?’ He answered me and said, ‘Do you not know what these are?’ And I said, ‘No, my lord.’ Then he said, ‘These are the two b’nei yitzhar,  those anointed with oil, who stand by the Lord of the whole earth.’

The anointed ones being Zerubbabel and Jeshua, the high priest. 

This explains why the destruction of Shiloh is almost ignored in the book of Samuel, and why Nov and Gibeon were not treated as full-fledged Sanctuaries in the eyes of the prophetic authors. They are not described with the same reverence and majesty that Shiloh and Jerusalem enjoyed, and Nov is nowhere explicitly described by any of the usual Biblical terms for any of the Sanctuaries, even though from a halachic standpoint it was a Sanctuary. This explains why Saul, after being rejected, was no longer an ideal, legitimate king even if he was halachically king even after David was anointed. This explains why Abiathar (II Samuel 15:24, according to the sages) and his father (I Samuel 14:3, 18, 19, 37) received no answer from the Urim and Tummim even though they were halachic high priests.  

II Samuel 7:18 states that, “David came and sat before God.” This could mean that David either sat before the Ark of the Covenant in the tent that he had pitched for it in Jerusalem, or that he went to the Sanctuary at Gibeon, but the Talmud, in a number of places, declares that only Davidic kings may sit in the Temple courtyard, and uses this verse as the proof text for this important exception, meaning that David did go to Gibeon, and that the sages assumed that the laws that applied to The Temple courtyard in Jerusalem once accordingly applied to Gibeon. Similarly, just as Maimonides rules (Laws of Murderers and the Preservation of Life):

The altar in the Temple serves as a refuge for [unintentional] killers… if a person kills unintentionally and takes refuge at the altar, and the blood redeemer kills him there, [the blood redeemer] should be executed as if he had killed him in a city of refuge.

it would seem reasonable that both Joab and Adonijah fled to Gibeon, and not the Jerusalem altar, to seek refuge from Solomon, even though they were not priests.

A possible challenge: Midrash Tanhuma (Wayaqhel 6) states that the entire Tabernacle was made for the sake of [housing] the Ark!

Indeed, this may be a challenge, but Maimonides already wrote that the initial commandment to build the Tabernacle is the also the eternal commandment to build the Temple: 

It is a positive commandment to build a House for God, ready for sacrifices to be offered within. There, we are to make celebratory pilgrimages three times a year, as it says [Exodus 25:8] states: “And you shall make a sanctuary for Me.”

And the purpose of any sanctuary from a halachic standpoint is sacrifice and pilgrimage. The Midrash, which discusses Bezalel’s seemingly supernatural wisdom, is describing a deeper, esoteric idea. 

Secondly, the Midrash is answering a potential challenge. The sages, as we have seen, said that the Israelites were to keep three commandments when they would settle in the land of Israel, and the building of the Temple is one of them. Why then would God command Israel to construct His house even before they would arrive in the land? Indeed, the sages debated to what extent the service was even conducted in the wilderness Tabernacle (Hagiga 6. See also the commentaries to Amos 5:25). None of the seasonal offerings were ever brought, and it is a matter of Talmudic dispute as to what, if any, of the daily and holiday public offerings, including offerings of mineral, vegetable, and animal origin, were actually brought! According to Maimonides, the Tabernacle was not only temporary, it was never used as a place of pilgrimage and used for very limited sacrifice! Rather, it must be that although the main purpose of the Tabernacle/Sanctuary would only be realized once Israel settled the land, the covenant they entered at Sinai required of them to have a proper place of storage for the tokens of that covenant, the Torah and the Tablets, and that is why the Tabernacle had to at least be built decades before it could be used as completely intended.

In Conclusion: An Interesting Symmetry and the Nov Novelty

According to the Talmudic chronology in the last chapter of Z’vahim and quoted by Maimonides:

The Tabernacle was in the wilderness for 39 years (almost exactly, from 1 Nisan until the second week of Nisan 39 years later).

The Tabernacle stood at Gilgal for 14 years.

The Tabernacle stood at Shiloh for 369 years. 

The Tabernacle stood in Nov and Gibeon for 57 years.

We do not have strong traditions regarding the dates of all of these; for example, although the Tabernacle was brought to Gilgal in Nisan, we do not know at what time of year it was then transferred to Shiloh, nor at what times of year Shiloh and Nov were destroyed. However, I propose that because the sages said that Israel began to count toward Sabbatical years after the 14 years of conquest, which ended when the Tabernacle was brought to Shiloh, and that the count traditionally starts on Rosh Hashana, the Tabernacle was therefore officially inaugurated at Shiloh on or about Rosh Hashana, just like the Temple eventually was.  

The First Temple stood for about 410 years, and sat in ruin for 70 years.

These figures are also rounded. The Temple was inaugurated on the 8th of Tishrei, but destroyed on the 9th of Av, while construction on the Second Temple began in Iyar. 

Thus, the total years that the Tabernacle stood and there was an issur bamoth is 369 + 39 = 408, while there were 14 + 57 = 71 years of the Tabernacle’s history that there was a hetter bamoth.

The First Temple stood for 410 incomplete years of issur bamoth, and lay in ruins for 70 years. I have not seen any treatment of this strange, chronological symmetry.

Now, I find it very interesting that the Daat Mikra and other modern-day commentaries struggle to positively identify the location of Nov. Unlike other major Biblical locations, there is still no consensus as to where Nov was. People visit Shiloh everyday, and if Gibeon were not in Area A, it would probably have many visitors. Where is Nov?

Further, I Samuel 21 describes Nov as both the home of the Tabernacle and as a priestly city, yet unlike Gibeon and Anathoth and the rest of the classical priestly cities within the territory of Benjamin, Nov is not on the lists as they appear in Joshua 21:17 and I Chronicles 6:45. When did Nov become a priestly city?

Next, I Samuel 22 describes how the women and children of Nov, the priests’ families, were also massacred. That is, unlike Shiloh and Jerualem, which the on-duty priests visited without bringing their families, who were left behind in their hometowns, Nov was apparently originally a priestly town even before the Tabernacle was brought there. Abiathar was the sole survivor of Nov, yet, when Solomon expelled him from Jerusalem and the priesthood, he commanded him to go back to “his field” in Anathoth. This is strange, because I would have expected Solomon to send Abiathar back to Nov, from which he had fled, and why would a priest own a field in a priestly city? The Levites and priests were given personal possession of the houses within the city, while the limited open areas around the cities were public spaces not owned by anyone!

Lastly, where does the name Nov come from, and what does it mean?

The answer to all of these questions is mentioned in the Zohar: Nov is Anathoth! That is why Gibeon and Anathoth are listed as priestly cities within Benjamin’s territory, but Nov is not, why the priests’ wives and children were also present in Nov, and how Abiathar as the sole survivor of the family that resided in Nov would eventually return to the ancestral fields that he came to possess in Anathoth. This also adds an ominous allusion to Jeremiah’s story (1:1): the prophet of the destruction of Jerusalem and its Sanctuary hailed from a town that had once housed the Sanctuary, and that had been destroyed and had its people massacred just like what would happen to Jerusalem. As we have written before, a prophet from, say, Shiloh, would not have been so ominous, because the destruction of Shiloh was not as tragic, because its holy vessels and treasures did not fall into enemy hands, and its people were evacuated before they could be slaughtered. 

At first I did not like this answer, because, as Prof. Elitzur pointed out to me, there is ample Biblical evidence that Nov was somewhere in the area of what is now Mt. Scopus/Shuafat, while Anatot is considerably farther to the north-west, but then he also pointed out to me that the modern-day settlement of Anatot/Almon which I had in mind is not the Biblical Anathoth. Rather, the Arab neighborhood of Anata is generally identified with Anathoth. 

It seems that the western end of Anata, northeast of where Highway 60 crosses Route 1 (just to the left of the red place marker on the map) is right about where Nov stood. I wonder if any particular place around there has been offered as a possible location for the Tabernacle? Considering that all of the Tabernacle’s components were moved intact to Gibeon, that King Saul had the place destroyed in his anger, and that the Tabernacle was not there for long, there might be very little archeological evidence remaining. I would imagine that Saul would have also ordered that no one ever again refer to the place as Nov. Thus, upon his return to Anathoth/Nov, Abiathar would not have found much of a city, but instead a large city-sized scene of desolation entirely belonging to him and his children, which they would build up anew. 

(Interestingly, the Zohar also rejects this opinion that identifies Nov with Anathoth, arguing that while Nov was a city, Anathoth was just a village. As Yehuda Kyl and others have pointed out, the Bible does refer to both towns as cities, so the Zohar’s rejection is itself denied.)

So why was Anathoth called Nov during Samuel’s time, if when it was first settled it was called Anathoth and then shortly thereafter reverted to Anathoth?

I believe the answer is that when Eli’s surviving family evacuated the Tabernacle from Shiloh to Nov, they had to find a place outside of their original city large enough to accommodate the Tabernacle and its courtyard and its other attendant facilities, and the many expected pilgrims, who, like Doeg himself, would need places to stay overnight after discharging their sacrificial obligations. They would have to put this new Temple-precinct to the west of the city, closer to the ancient highway that also served Shiloh to the north, the aforementioned Route 60 of today, and where the weather was more pleasant and the views prettier (the Judean Desert basically begins just to the east of Anata), and not within the areas designated by Torah law outside of the city for the Levites’ fields and vineyards and for open space, just like the Shiloh Sanctuary was erected outside of the walls of the ancient city. By the sages’ count, for about fourteen years, including the entire tenure of Samuel as Judge, this “New Anathoth” served as our people’s religious nucleus, and its name, like a handful of other words in the Bible (alon, m’cherotheihem, hein, hadar, amor, totafoth, etc.,) is borrowed from the ancient Mediterranean Languages; in Old Latin, as in Classical Latin, “nova” means “new.”

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6lHPQvYX4A